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"Mr Bloom stood far back, his hat in his hand, counting the bared heads." (U6.824)
A period photograph showing a similar scene at a gravesite. Please email me if you recognize the church (likely in Ireland). |
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"Nice soft tweed Ned Lambert has in that suit. Tinge of purple. I had one like that when we lived in Lombard street west. Dressy fellow he was once. Used to change three suits in the day. Must get that grey suit of mine turned by Mesias. Hello. It's dyed. His wife I forgot he's not married or his landlady ought to have picked out those threads for him." (U6.828)
[This is not a photo of Ned Lambert] |
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"Far away a donkey brayed. Rain. No such ass. Never see a dead one, they say." (U6.837) |
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"People talk about you a bit: forget you. Don't forget to pray for him. Remember him in your prayers. Even Parnell." (U6.853)
Parnell's funeral to Glasnevin Cemetery, October 11th 1891, was attended by nearly 250,000 people. This CDV was produced In Memoriam after his death. Later, in his honor, a monument was erected in Upper Sackville street, and Great Britain street renamed Parnell street. |
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"We are praying now for the repose of his soul. Hoping you're well and not in hell. Nice change of air." (U6.857) |
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"Out of the fryingpan of life into the fire of purgatory." (U6.858) |
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"Does he ever think of the hole waiting for himself? They say you do when you shiver in the sun. Someone walking over it. Callboy's warning. Near you. Mine over there towards Finglas, the plot I bought. Mamma, poor mamma, and little Rudy." (U6.860)
From Tit-bits (1890), an item on this popular superstition. |
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"The gravediggers took up their spades and flung heavy clods of clay in on the coffin. Mr Bloom turned away his face. And if he was alive all the time? Whew! By jingo, that would be awful! No, no: he is dead, of course. Of course he is dead. Monday he died. They ought to have some law to pierce the heart and make sure or an electric clock or a telephone in the coffin and some kind of a canvas airhole. Flag of distress." (U6.864) |
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"Three days. Rather long to keep them in summer. Just as well to get shut of them as soon as you are sure there's no.
The clay fell softer. Begin to be forgotten. Out of sight, out of mind." (U6.869) |
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"The caretaker moved away a few paces and put on his hat. Had enough of it. The mourners took heart of grace, one by one, covering themselves without show. Mr Bloom put on his hat and saw the portly figure make its way deftly through the maze of graves. Quietly, sure of his ground, he traversed the dismal fields." (U6.873) |
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"He moved away, looking about him.
- No, Mr Bloom began, turning and stopping. I say, Hynes! Didn't hear. What? Where has he disappeared to? Not a sign. Well of all the. Has anybody here seen? Kay ee double ell. Become invisible. Good Lord, what became of him?" (U6.897) |
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"Let us go round by the chief's grave, Haynes said." (U6.919)
The chief is Charles Stewart Parnell (1846-1891). This is a SV approaching Parnell's grave in Prospect Cemetery, with the O'Connell monument and the mortuary chapel in the background. |
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"- Some say he is not in that grave at all. That the coffin was filled with stones. That one day he will come again." (U6.923)
Parnell's grave was unmarked. |
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"Hynes shook his head.
- Parnell will never come again, he said. He's there, all that was mortal of him. Peace to his ashes." (U6.925) In this SV from 1896, Parnell's grave seemed to have plenty of visitors. |
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"Mr Bloom walked unheeded along his grove by saddened angels, crosses, broken pillars, family vaults, stone hopes praying with upcast eyes, old Ireland's hearts and hands." (U6.928) |