Ulysses page-by-page: Page 94 (6.367-405) "We are going... is to have"

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fd: [258] [259] Useen: [] maps: [path] [other] [*]
fd: [257]

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— We are going the pace, I think, Martin Cunningham said.

cf p49? "a pace a pace a porpoise"

— God grant he doesn't upset us on the road, Mr Power said.

— I hope not, Martin Cunningham said. That will be a great race tomorrow in Germany. The Gordon Bennett.

1904 Gordon Bennett Cup

— Yes, by Jove, Mr Dedalus said. That will be worth seeing, faith.

funeral on Berkeley street c1900

fd: [258]

As they turned into Berkeley street a streetorgan near the Basin sent over and after them a rollicking rattling song of the halls. Has anybody here seen Kelly? Kay ee double ell wy. Dead March from Saul. He's as bad as old Antonio. He left me on my ownio. Pirouette!

StreetView now
1909 map

streetorgan [video]

streetorgan:

Basin-to-Berkeley = 400ft

♬ Dead March (sounds similar??)
♬ Oh! Oh! Antonio

The Mater Misericordiae. Eccles street. My house down there.

(all to the right)
(why the italics here? should it be 'æ'?)

Big place. Ward for incurables there. Very encouraging. Our Lady's Hospice for the dying. Deadhouse handy underneath. Where old Mrs Riordan died. They look terrible the women. Her feeding cup and rubbing her mouth with the spoon. Then the screen round her bed for her to die. Nice young student that was dressed that bite the bee gave me. He's gone over to the lying-in hospital they told me. From one extreme to the other.

StreetView now

The carriage galloped round a corner: stopped.

StreetView now
1909 map

— What's wrong now?

A divided drove of branded cattle passed the windows, lowing, slouching by on padded hoofs, whisking their tails slowly on their clotted bony croups. Outside them and through them ran raddled sheep bleating their fear.

cattle on Gt Denmark street in the 1960s: pic (where?)

— Emigrants, Mr Power said.

(being shipped out of Ireland)

— Huuuh! the drover's voice cried, his switch sounding on their flanks. Huuuh! out of that!

cf? p46 "Tatters! Out of that, you mongrel!"

fd: [259]

Thursday of course. Tomorrow is killing day. Springers. Cuffe sold them about twentyseven quid each. For Liverpool probably. Roast beef for old England. They buy up all the juicy ones. And then the fifth quarter is lost: all that raw stuff, hide, hair, horns. Comes to a big thing in a year. Dead meat trade. Byproducts of the slaughterhouses for tanneries, soap, margarine. Wonder if that dodge works now getting dicky meat off the train at Clonsilla.

£27 in 1904 = $3500 today
(springing heifers are around $2000 these days? wouldn't this be for dairy not slaughter?)

♬ The Roast Beef of Old England

fifth quarter
"hair, horns" cf p84 "I believe they clip the nails and the hair. Keep a bit in an envelope"
rotting-meat motif

The carriage moved on through the drove.

— I can't make out why the corporation doesn't run a tramline from the parkgate to the quays, Mr Bloom said. All those animals could be taken in trucks down to the boats.

— Instead of blocking up the thoroughfare, Martin Cunningham said. Quite right. They ought to.

— Yes, Mr Bloom said, and another thing I often thought, is to have

mysteries:

[DD 00:05-03:17]