"and Wolfe Tone beyond on Arbour Hill and Robert Emmet and die for your country," (U12.498)
"the Tommy Moore touch about Sara Curran and she's far from the land." (U12.500)
Sara Curran (1782 - 1808) was the great love of Robert Emmett, the Irish patriot who was executed in 1803. After Emmet's death, Sarah left her family and moved to Cork, where she met a soldier named Robert Sturgeon who offered her marriage and a home. They moved to Sicily, but she never fully recovered from her grief. Thomas Moore (1779 - 1852) wrote a sentimental poem about Curran, titled 'She is Far from the Land,' that starts:
'She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps,
And lovers around her are sighing,
But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps,
For her heart in his grave is lying!'
"And Bloom, of course, with his knockmedown cigar putting on swank with his lardy face." (U12.501)
"Phenomenon! The fat heap he married is a nice old phenomenon with a back on her like a ballalley." (U12.502)
"Time they were stopping up in the City Arms Pisser Burke told me there was an old one there with a cracked loodheramaun of a nephew and Bloom trying to get the soft side of her doing the mollycoddle" (U12.504)
"And one time he led him the rounds of Dublin and, by the holy farmer, he never cried crack till he brought him home as drunk as a boiled owl and he said he did it to teach him the evils of alcohol and by herrings if the three women didn't near roast him, it's a queer story, the old one, Bloom's wife and Mrs O'Dowd that kept the hotel. Jesus, I had to laugh at Pisser Burke taking them off chewing the fat. And Bloom with his but don't you see? and but on the other hand. And sure, more be token, the lout I'm told was in Power's after, the blender's, round in Cope street going home footless in a cab five times in the week after drinking his way through all the samples in the bloody establishment. Phenomenon!" (U12.509)"
"The deafening claps of thunder and the dazzling flashes of lightning which lit up the ghastly scene testified that the artillery of heaven had lent its supernatural pomp to the already gruesome spectacle. A torrential rain poured down from the floodgates of the angry heavens upon the bared heads of the assembled multitude which numbered at the lowest computation five hundred thousand persons." (U12.528)
" A posse of Dublin Metropolitan police superintended by the Chief Commissioner in person maintained order in the vast throng for whom the York Street brass and reed band whiled away the intervening time by admirably rendering on their blackdraped instruments the matchless melody endeared to us from the cradle by Speranza's plaintive muse." (U12.534)
"The children of the Male and Female Foundling Hospital who thronged the windows overlooking the scene were delighted with this unexpected addition to the day's entertainment" (U12.547)
From the same era, a PC showing a 'Happy group of our Girls' from the orphanage of Clacton-on-Sea (Essex, England).
"and a word of praise is due to the Little Sisters of the Poor for their excellent idea of affording the poor fatherless and motherless children a genuinely instructive treat." U12.549)
"The viceregal houseparty which included many wellknown ladies was chaperoned by Their Excellencies" (U12.551)
"to the most favourable positions on the grand stand while the picturesque foreign delegation known as the Friends of the Emerald Isle was accommodated on a tribune directly opposite. The delegation, present in full force, consisted of Commendatore Bacibaci Beninobenone (the semiparalysed doyen of the party who had to be assisted to his seat by the aid of a powerful steam crane)," (U12.553)
"An animated altercation (in which all took part) ensued among the F.O.T.E.I. as to whether the eighth or the ninth of March was the correct date of the birth of Ireland's patron saint." (U12.572)
The exact date of birth of S. Patrick (real name Maewyn Succat) is unknown. He was born 387-390 in Scotland. He died in Co. Down around 461-464. There is some certainty that the day of his death was March 17, commemorated as S. Patrick's Day.
"In the course of the argument cannonballs, scimitars, boomerangs, blunderbusses, stinkpots, meatchoppers, umbrellas, catapults, knuckledusters, sandbags, lumps of pig iron were resorted to and blows were freely exchanged." (U12.574)
"The baby policeman, Constable MacFadden, summoned by special courier from Booterstown, quickly restored order and with lightning promptitude proposed the seventeenth of the month as a solution equally honourable for both contending parties. The readywitted ninefooter's suggestion at once appealed to all and was unanimously accepted. Constable MacFadden was heartily congratulated by all the F.O.T.E.I., several of whom were bleeding profusely." (U12.577)
"Quietly, unassumingly, Rumbold stepped on to the scaffold in faultless morning dress and wearing his favourite flower, the Gladiolus Cruentus. He announced his presence by that gentle Rumboldian cough which so many have tried (unsuccessfully) to imitate - short, painstaking yet withal so characteristic of the man." (U12.592)