Tracing Dublin dark and grim past can be guessed from the existing names of its streets.

I was strolling around the Docklands area when I reached Grand Canal Square, located at the west end of the Grand Canal Dock, with one side jutting out onto the water. It is an elegant area of Dublin so modern; well, let me say, ultramodern!

Here between luxurious buildings of angled glass and steel, the striking Bord Gáis Energy Theatre stands. I walked closer to admire the theatre when a narrow road named Misery Hill came in sight.

Misery Hill? Here?

We have to step back in time to find the answer; the story dates back to medieval times.

Before the River Liffey was contained, the tidal waters came up to the Townsend Street and College Green areas, and the Docklands were one of the closest parts of the city to the sea.

Pilgrim ships bound for Santiago de Compostela used to sail from here directly to the coast of Galicia and anchor at Ferrol or A Coruña. By the mid-13th century, some of these ships were carrying people with leprosy who were desperate for a miraculous cure.

Pilgrims to the Camino de Santiago met on James Street, nearby the Guinness Storehouse, approximately forty-five minutes away on foot from Dublin’s Docklands. They passed through town via Trinity College and Hawkins House before reaching hostels or hospitals, where they could receive basic first aid and medical treatment before they boarded the ship to Spain.

Founded by Henry Blund, Archbishop of Dublin, in 1216, the Hospital of Saint James was one of these hospitals. It was located in Townsend Street, known as Lazar Hill or Lazy Hill, in the past.

Run along with strict Augustinian principles, the hospital was a well-run retreat, providing a good diet, clothing and sanitation.

Unfortunately, not all “lepers”, as they were known, could afford it. Most of them could only take shelter and seek help at the hospital situated at Misery Hill. The building was very basic and poor and was known, at the time as ‘Miserable’, which transformed to ‘Misery’. Some sufferers used to live in this leprosarium, not simply for the good of their health, but also as a form of perpetual quarantine and didn’t board any ship.

It is difficult to imagine the physical suffering, sadness and wretchedness embedded here. Nowadays, people go for a walk or a run, chat happily and enjoy musicals and heartwarming stage productions at Bord Gáis Energy Theatre.

On this very spot, in medieval times, the cry “Unclean, Unclean” was frequently heard: the lepers were passing, people went silent and quickly fled inside, one man tolled a bell, and another carried a 12 metres white pole to keep everyone at a safe distance.

Centuries passed, and Misery Hill was still a place of grief, sorrow and dark stories.

In the 18th century the bodies of those executed at Gallows Hill near Upper Baggot Street were carted here and strung up to rot to warn other would-be troublemakers.

Edward Tyrell, the priest hunter hired by the Secretary to the Lords Justices Joshua Dawson, met his end here. After his arrest, he was hanged on Gallows Hill in 1713 and strung up at Misery Hill. Ninety years later, two of Robert Emmet’s accomplices were also allegedly hanged there in 1803.

Indeed a striking contrast and a revolting dark story to remember!