[Illustration: BARRACK BRIDGE AND THE MILITARY GATE, DUBLIN.]
Though our own good metropolis is confessedly one of the most ancient
cities in the empire, yet there are few towns of any importance either
in England, Scotland, or Ireland, that have so little appearance of
old age; we have indeed a couple of venerable cathedrals, which is
more, we believe, than any other city in her Majesty’s dominions,
except London, can boast of; and we have a few insignificant remains of
monastic edifices, but hid in obscure situations, where they are only
known to zealous antiquaries:--with the exception of these, however, we
have nothing that has not a modern look, though too often a tattered
one; nor is there, we believe, a single house within our Circular Road
that has seen two hundred years. Our bridges and other public edifices
in like manner are all modern--specimens of mushroom architectural
aristocracy--very dignified and imposing, no doubt, in their aspect, but
without any hallowing associations connected with remote times to make us
respect them.
It is owing, perhaps, to these circumstances that we have always had a
pleasure in seeing the old-looking bridge and gateway which form the
subject of our prefixed illustration--we say old-looking, for in reality
neither is very old: but they have an antique appearance about them which
prevents us from thinking our city a mere creation of yesterday. They are
very picturesque also, and contrast well with the other bridge scenes
along our quays, which, though more splendid and architectural, are as
yet too new-looking and commonplace.
Though Barrack Bridge, or, as it is more popularly called, Bloody Bridge,
is now the oldest of the eight bridges which span the Liffey within our
city, its antiquity is no earlier than the close of the seventeenth
century: and yet this very bridge is the second structure of the kind
erected in Dublin, as previously to its construction there was but one
bridge--_the_ Bridge, as it was called, connecting Bridge-street with
Church-street--across the Liffey. And this fact is alone sufficient to
prove the advance in prosperity and the arts of civilised life which
Dublin has made within a period of little more than a century.
Barrack Bridge was originally constructed of wood, and was erected in
1670; and its popular name of Bloody Bridge was derived, as Harris the
historian states, from the following circumstance, which occurred in
the year after. The apprentices of Dublin having assembled themselves
riotously together with an intention to break down the bridge, it became
necessary to call out the military to defeat their object, when twenty
of the rioters were seized, and committed to the Castle. It happened,
however, afterwards, that as a guard of soldiers were conveying these
young men to the Bridewell, they were rescued by their fellows, and in
the fray four of them were slain; “from which accident it took the name
of Bloody Bridge.” In a short time afterwards, this wooden structure
gave place to the stone bridge we now see, which is of unadorned
character, and consists of four semicircular arches. Its rude and antique
appearance, however, harmonizes well with the military gateway placed at
its south-western extremity, on the road leading to the Royal Hospital
at Kilmainham. This gateway, which was designed by the late eminent
architect, Francis Johnston, Esq. P.R.H.A., and erected for government,
under his superintendence, in 1811, consists of a square tower, having
smaller square towers projecting from three of its angles, and a circular
one of greater diameter and altitude at its fourth or north-eastern
angle. The object for which this gateway tower was erected, as well as
the period of its erection, is indicated by escutcheons on its east and
west sides, bearing the arms of the Duke of Richmond and the Earl of
Harrington, the lord-lieutenant and the commander of the forces of the
time. A similar shield on its north side facing the river, sculptured
with the armorial bearings of the family of Johnston, indicates the name
of its architect; and it is worthy of mention as a characteristic of the
love for posthumous fame of Mr Johnston, that this tablet was not known
to exist till within a few years back, and after he had himself paid the
debt of nature; having been concealed from view by a box of wood fastened
against it, and which was suffered to remain--a strange mystery to the
curious observer--till it fell off from decay.