Harry Kernoff – Jammet’s Restaurant, Dublin


    He had never been in Corless’s but he knew the value of the name. He knew that people went there after the theatre to eat oysters and drink liqueurs; and he had heard that the waiters there spoke French and German. Walking swiftly by at night he had seen cabs drawn up before the door and richly dressed ladies, escorted by cavaliers, alight and enter quickly. They wore noisy dresses and many wraps. Their faces were powdered and they caught up their dresses, when they touched earth, like alarmed Atalantas.

James Joyce, A Little Cloud, Dubliners, (Pages 58)

Joyce liked fine dining and there was no place better in Dublin in the early 1900’s than Jammet’s, which began as Corless’s in the late 1800’s. As is pointed out in the notes by Terence Brown in the Penguin edition (2000) of Dubliners, by the time the A Little Cloud was written, Corless’s had become Jammet’s but was still popularly known as Corless’s.

Máirtín Mac Con Iomaire has written extensively on the history of restaurants in Dublin and writes about the development of Jammet’s.

In November 1884, Thomas Corless advertised in The Irish Times the presence of a First-class French Cook‘ in The Burlington Restaurant and Dining Rooms, Andrew Street and Church Lane … In 1900, Michel and François Jammet bought the Burlington Restaurant and Oyster Saloons at 27 St Andrew Street, Dublin from Tom Corless. They refitted, and renamed it The Jammet Hotel and Restaurant in 1901, and it became pre-eminent among the restaurants of Dublin.

Máirtín Mac Con Iomaire, ‘From Jammet’s to Guilbaud’s’ The Influence of French Haute Cuisine on the Development of Dublin Restaurants (pages 4,5)

The Oysters that Little Chandler is thinking of, were of particular value to Tom Corless.

Corless had 700 acres of oyster beds in Clifden Bay. In 1896 Tom Corless becomes embroiled in a legal action with John N. Curtain of Ballyvaughan over a statement he issued that not a single Red Bank oyster had come into the Dublin Market since 1875. The case is comprehensively detailed in The Irish Times (2/5/1896:11), the outcome of which saw Corless lose and fined damages of £10, which was much less than the £1000 the plaintiff, Mr. Curtain originally sought.

 The Emergence, Development and Influence of French Haute Cuisine on Public Dining in Dublin Restaurants 1900-2000: An Oral History (Pages 103, 104).

Joyce loved fine dining and what would now be called living it large. Joyce loved Jammet’s, as his friend Arthur Power notes:

He seemed to have a passion for an ordered life, and I thought it was a reaction from his former life in Dublin, from the poverty and bohemianism of his youth, of which one heard various accounts from people who had known him at the time. One day, meeting his friends in the street, he told each of them that they must meet him again on the following Saturday at midday at the bottom of Grafton Street with a pound note in their pockets – a matter, he intimated to them, of the utmost urgency. On the following Saturday a number of them turned up.
–Have you all got your pound notes? he asked, and when they produced the promised money he said, now let us all go and dine in Jammet’s – Jammet’s being at that time Dublin’s best known and expensive restaurant, a few yards from their meeting place. Such and other stories are told of Joyce’s bohemian youth, but in Paris he lived the most ordinary life imaginable, remaining shut up in his flat during most of the day.

Arthur Power, Conversations with James Joyce (Page 52)

Harry Kernoff painted the original Jammet’s, before the restaurant was relocated to Nassau Street in 1927. Like the restaurant, the painting moved across town. In this case to Restaurant Patrick Guilbaud in Merrion Street Upper, Dublin 2.

Jammet’s is mentioned twice by name in Ulysses. Once by Corny Kelleher towards the end of the Circe episode and once in Nausikaa episode on Sandymount Strand, when Bloom is looking at Gerty MacDowell.

    There she is with them down there for the fireworks. My fireworks. Up like a rocket, down like a stick. And the children, twins they must be, waiting for something to happen. Want to be grownups. Dressing in mother’s clothes. Time enough, understand all the ways of the world. And the dark one with the mop head and the nigger mouth. I knew she could whistle. Mouth made for that. Like Molly. Why that highclass whore in Jammet’s wore her veil only to her nose. Would you mind, please, telling me the right time? I’ll tell you the right time up a dark lane. Say prunes and prisms forty times every morning, cure for fat lips. Caressing the little boy too. Onlookers see most of the game. Of course they understand birds, animals, babies. In their line.

James Joyce. Ulysses (Page 304)

I went for a run around the sites of the two Jammet’s restaurants, past Davy Byrne’s, probably the most famous dining place in Joyce’s writings, onto The Merrion Hotel and past Restaurant Patrick Guilbaud where Harry Kernoff’s picture hangs.

The first location for Jammet’s, Dublin’s finest French restaurant, is now home to the Swedish clothing company, H&M. And its second, interestingly, as Joyce wrote of the image of the high class whore in Jammet’s, is now occupied by the nightclub Lillie’s Bordello.


Joyce, J. (1998) Ulysses. Edited by Hans Walter Gabler, Wolfhard Steppe, and Claus Melchior. Afterward by Michael Gordon edn. New York, United States: Vintage Books.

Joyce, J. (2006) Dubliners, Authoritative Text, Contexts, Criticism. Edited by Margot Norris, Hans Walter Gabler, and Walter Hettche. New York, United States: Norton, W. W. & Company.

Power, A. (1999) Conversations with James Joyce. Foreword by David Norris edn. Dublin, Ireland: The Lilliput Press.

You can download Máirtín’s Mac Con Iomaire’s Ph.D. Dissertation, The Emergence, Development and Influence of French Haute Cuisine on Public Dining in Dublin Restaurants 1900-2000: An Oral History here

And his article ‘From Jammet’s to Guilbaud’s’ The Influence of French Haute Cuisine on the Development of Dublin Restaurants here

Click here to see the route details on Runkeeper

With thanks to The Merrion Hotel and Restaurant Patrick Guilbaud for kind permission to use the image of the painting of Jammet’s by Harry Kernoff.


Screen Shot 2015-07-30 at 20.35.39

    Seabloom, greaseabloom viewed last words. Softly. When my country takes her place among.
    Must be the bur.
    Fff! Oo. Rrpr.
Nations of the earth. No-one behind. She’s passed. Then and not till then. Tram kran kran kran. Good oppor. Coming. Krandlkrankran. I’m sure it’s the burgund. Yes. One, two. Let my epitaph be. Kraaaaaa. Written. I have.

James Joyce. Ulysses (Pages 238,239)

Ulysses is suffused with the senses of Dublin. In particular the sense of smell, as noted by Joyce in this particular exchange with his friend Arthur Power.

What is the first thing that you notice about a country when you arrive in it? Its odour, which is the gauge of its civilisation, and it is that odour which percolates into its literature. Just as Rabelais smells of the Spain of its time, so Ulysses smells of the Dublin of my day.
–It certainly has an effluvium, I agreed.
–Yes, it smells of the Anna Liffey, smiled Joyce, not always a very sweet smell perhaps, but distinctive all the same.

Arthur Power. Conversations with Joyce (Page 117)

The sounds and smells of Dublin in 1904 would have been very different to those of 2015. I decided to run around areas of Dublin with strong associations of smell, Guinness’s Brewery, The Liffey, The Fruit and Vegetable Markets.

The brewery smells much less than it ever used to, the all pervasive smell of roasting hops seemingly reduced by modern brewing techniques.

The Liffey at full tide was refreshingly odour free, as it was at low tide when I passed the day before. It was a hot summers day but the smell was much improved from the description in the Bagatelle song from 1980 I remember the summer in Dublin and the Liffey as it stank like hell… I ran along Wellington Quay where the River Poddle emerges under the quay wall. In her book The Buildings of Ireland, Dublin, (page 316) Christine Casey points out an error in the Wandering Rocks episode of Ulysses where Joyce says that the Poddle emerges from Wood Quay Wall.  Regardless of where the Poddle entered the Liffey, it must have stank as much as Bagatelle noted in 1980.

From its sluice in Wood quay wall under Tom Devan’s office Poddle river hung out in fealty a tongue of liquid sewage. 

James Joyce. Ulysses (Page 207)

I then ran along Ormond Quay past the point where Bloom exits the Ormond Hotel and ran up to Barney Kiernan’s pub along Arran Street East, crossing the tram tracks at Mary’s Abbey and Chancery Street. In the quote from Ulysses that opens this blogpost, Bloom is using the noise of a passing tram to disguise his flatulence, caused he thinks, by the Burgundy he had earlier in Davy Byrne’s public house. In 1904 trams ran along Ormond Quay, whereas today the Luas runs further North, behind the quays.

As I ran up towards Barney Kiernan’s pub I ran in and around the markets area, in particular the CIty Wholesale Fruit and Vegetable Markets, a much more pleasant and odorous experience.


Joyce, J. (1998) Ulysses. Edited by Hans Walter Gabler, Wolfhard Steppe, and Claus Melchior. Afterward by Michael Gordon edn. New York, United States: Vintage Books.

Power, A. (1999) Conversations with James Joyce. Foreword by David Norris edn. Dublin, Ireland: The Lilliput Press.

Click here to see the route details on Runkeeper


The North House, DIT Grangegorman, formerly the Male House in the Richmond District Lunatic Asylum


Extract from Ordnance Survey Map of Grangegorman. Survey dated 1888-1913


—That fellow I was with in the Ship last night, said Buck Mulligan, says you have g.p.i, He’s up in Dottyville with Conolly Norman. General paralysis of the insane!

James Joyce. Ulysses (Page 6)

Dottyville refers to the Richmond District Lunatic Asylum of which Conolly Norman, an alienist or psychiatrist, was the resident medical superintendent. The asylum subsequently became St. Brendan’s Hospital and the area is commonly known as Granagegorman. Conolly Norman died on 23 February 1908 at his home at St Dymphna’s, which is on the North Circular Road, in front of the new Phoenix Care Centre at the north west corner of the new Grangegorman Campus. There is a biography of Conolly Norman on the Royal Irish Academy website hereDespite the proximity of Grangegorman to Glasnevin Cemetery, Conolly Norman is buried in Mount Jerome on the south side of the River Liffey. The cemetery, which opened in 1836 was originally exclusively used for protestant burials.

Joyce understood Dublin keenly and at one stage lived a small distance from Grangegorman in St. Peter’s Terrace, Cabra. He describes Grangegorman in Finnegans Wake as the platauplain of Grangegorman. This phrase hints at the magnificent views across Dublin, but also the biting wind that sweeps across Grangegorman, where the new DIT campus opened in 2014. There is an interesting article about Grangegorman on the Dublin City Council website here

the rigadoons have held ragtimed revels on the platauplain of Grangegorman

James Joyce. Finnegans Wake (Page 236)

The meanings of words and phrases that Joyce compounded for Finnegans Wake are brilliantly explained on the website www.finwake.com and the Grangegorman reference is explained here if you scroll down to page 236. Dottyville is another obvious compound word. Glynn Anderson writes in his book Birds of Ireland, Facts, Folklore & History that the word Dotty is derived from the dotterel bird, known in Irish as Amadán móinteach, or “bog idiot”, because it was so docile it was easily captured by humans.

Joyce’s daughter Lucia suffered from mental health issues. She went on an ill fated trip to Ireland, arriving on St.Patrick’s Day 1935, where she ran amok and amongst other erratic behaviour, lit a fire in the middle of her room in the house in Meath Road, Bray. There were other bizarre incidents described in detail in Carol Loeb Shloss’s biography  Lucia Joyce, To Dance in the Wake. Joyce eventually found out about the events in Ireland. Brenda Maddox writes,

As all of this went on, Joyce protested that no one wrote to Nora and him. That was not true. Eileen had wired him of her alarm but Joyce brushed her off: ‘The scenes that scared you and Miss Weaver are nothing to speak of. Her mother stood four years of much worse than that.’ Nonetheless he asked Constantine Curran, with his wife and daughter , to drive down to Bray to see what was going on. It did not take them long to see that Lucia was living in disorder and was incapable of looking after herself. Mrs. Curran and Elizabeth sorted out Lucia’s beautiful clothes, which were in a terrible heap. Even as Lucia, who was a heavy smoker, watched them, hew tweed jacket caught fire from a box of matches in her pocket.
    Alarmed at what they found, Curran wrote at length to Nora rather than to Joyce. He recommended taking Lucia to see an American-trained psychoanalytic doctor in Dublin. Joyce, annoyed because Curran had not reported directly to him and distrustful of psychoanalysts, cabled immediately that no such appointment was to take place. Joyce was resolved to continue with his strategy of allowing Lucia total freedom, seeing that all medical attempts at restraint had filed, The one thing Lucia hated, he knew, was being under surveillance.

Brenda Maddox. Nora (Pages 411, 412)

Lucia ended her trip with a three week stay in Farnham House, an asylum in Finglas, just to the north of Grangegorman. She left Ireland in July of the same year. Later she was resident in St.Andrews Hospital, formerly the Northampton General Lunatic Asylum, in Northamptonshire, England, where she lived from 1951 until her death in 1982. Whilst there she had visits from Samuel Beckett and Miss Weaver, Joyce’s patron. It is interesting to speculate that if Joyce had returned to Ireland, Lucia may herself have ended up in Grangegorman.


Joyce, J. (1998) Ulysses. Edited by Hans Walter Gabler, Wolfhard Steppe, and Claus Melchior. Afterward by Michael Gordon edn. New York, United States: Vintage Books.

Joyce, J. (2000) Finnegans Wake. Introduction by Seamus Deane edn. London, United Kingdom: Penguin Books.

Maddox, B. (1988) Nora: A Biography of Nora Joyce. London, United Kingdom: Hamish Hamilton.

Shloss, C.L. (2005) Lucia Joyce: To Dance in the Wake. London, United Kingdom: Bloomsbury.

Click here to see the route details on Runkeeper


North Richmond Street, being blind, was a quiet street except at the hour when the Christian Brothers School set the boys free. An uninhabited house of two storeys stood at the blind end, detached from its neighbours in a square ground. The other houses of the street, conscious of decent lives within them, gazed at one another with brown imperturbable faces.

James Joyce. Araby, Dubliners (Page 20)

Joyce does not really describe the physical elements of Dublin in any detail. The quote above gives some detail about North Richmond Street, but is scant in the portrayal of the architecture or environment. Joyce’s friend Frank Budgen describes Joyce’s descriptions in his book James Joyce and the Making of Ulysses.

But it is not by way of description that Dublin is created in Ulysses. There is a wealth of delicate pictorial evidence in Dubliners, but there is little or none in Ulysses. Streets are named but never described. Houses and interiors are shown us, but as if we entered them as familiars. Not as strangers come to take stock of the occupants and inventory their furniture. Bridges over the Liffey are crossed and recrossed and that is all.

Frank Budgen. James Joyce and the Making of Ulysses (Page 68)

I wonder if, in a novel of some 700 pages in length Joyce thought detailed physical descriptions were a distraction, or would add extra text without adding to the meaning, detracting from the motion of the narrative. But perhaps as his University friend Constantine Curran alludes to, he simply had no interest in his physical surroundings.

All my student friends were devoted to the theatre; some of them shared an equal interest in painting or music. But I never once saw Joyce in the National Gallery or at any picture exhibition or heard him make any comment on Dublin painting or architecture.

He knew the streets of Dublin by heart and his memory was a map of the town. But his interest in buildings, as in pictures, was for their associations.

C.P. Curran. James Joyce Remembered,  (Page 39)

In her biography of Nora, Brenda Maddox writes about the upgrading of the Joyce family apartment at Square Robiac in Paris.

Their friends all crowded in for a look and privately found it dreadful. The kindest verdict was the painter Myron Nutting’s: ‘comfortable and not untasteful’. Helen Fleischman regretted that it was so unattractive and even Miss Weaver, once she had braved the ordeal of a Channel crossing to come to inspect the new settled working environment she wanted Joyce to have, found it bare-looking. To Sylvia Beach she confided the hope that the Joyces would furnish the flat more fully (although she knew at whose expense this would be done).

These critics, like most of the Joyces’ visitors, were aesthetic sophisticates who expected Joyce, as a leader of the avant garde in writing, to be equally adventurous his personal surroundings.

The Joyces’ indifference to design puzzled their friends all the more because Nora and her husband took an interest in modern music.

Brenda Maddox. Nora (Page 303)

I want” said Joyce, as we were walking down the Universitätrasse, “to give a picture of Dublin so complete that if the city one day suddenly disappeared from the earth it could be reconstructed out of my book.

Frank Budgen. James Joyce and the Making of Ulysses (Pages 67, 68)

Perhaps in Joyce’s complete picture there are only people, not detailed architectural surroundings, and that is what he would recreate in his new Dublin.

And if you wonder what North Richmond Street with its brown imperturbable faces looks like in reality, here is a photograph I took in June 2015, the street little changed in its physical makeup since the story Araby was written.


North Richmond Street: 03 June 2015

Immediately to the left of the photograph, and out of the camera view is the Christian Brothers school. Edited out, much as Joyce edited out the details of his short period of education there.


Budgen, F. (1960) James Joyce and the Making of Ulysses. Bloomington, Indiana, United States: Indiana University Press.

Curran, C.P. (1968) James Joyce Remembered. London: Oxford University Press.

Joyce, J. (2006) Dubliners, Authoritative Text, Contexts, Criticism. Edited by Margot Norris, Hans Walter Gabler, and Walter Hettche. New York, United States: Norton, W. W. & Company.

Maddox, B. (1988) Nora: A Biography of Nora Joyce. London, United Kingdom: Hamish Hamilton.

Click here to see the route details on Runkeeper


—They tell the story, he said, that two drunks came out here one foggy evening to look for the grave of a friend of theirs. They asked for Mulcahy from the Coombe and were told where he was buried. After traipsing about in the fog they found the grave sure enough. One of the drunks spelt out the name: Terence Mulcahy. The other drunk was blinking up at a statue of Our Saviour the widow had got put up.
The caretaker blinked up at one of the sepulchres they passed. He resumed:
—And, after blinking up at the sacred figure, Not a bloody bit like the man, says he. That’s not Mulcahy, says he, whoever done it.

James Joyce. Ulysses (Page 88)

James Joyce was not the first born of John Stanislaus Joyce and May Murray. They had a son born on 23rd November 1880, some seven months after their wedding. The baby lived for eight days. Wyse Jackson and Costello say that the birth took place at home in Ontario Terrace whereas Ken Monaghan, who’s mother May was one of James Joyce’s sisters, in his book Joyce’s Dublin Family, says the boy was born in 47 Northumberland Avenue in Kingstown, now Dun Laoghaire. Regardless of the uncertainty of the birth, the baby was to be the first Joyce to be buried in the family plot in Glasnevin.

For the funeral, John bought a plot in Prospect Cemetery, Glasnevin, where he knew the Superintendent, David Malins. This was the only estate he would manage to hold on to until his own death. Glasnevin was on the northern outskirts of the city; the large graveyard there had the melancholy distinction of being ‘the Irish Valhalla’, as the burial place of, among other national heroes, Daniel O’Connell, who had helped to create it as an almost exclusively Catholic Cemetery. There were very few mourners at the freezing graveside; even the baby’s mother was not there – as it was not then customary for women to attend funerals.

John Wyse Jackson and Peter Costello. John Stanislaus Joyce (Page 100)

    Mr Bloom stood far back, his hat in his hand, counting the bared heads. Twelve. I’m thirteen. No. The chap in the macintosh is thirteen. Death’s number. Where the deuce did he pop out of? He wasn’t in the chapel, that I’ll swear. Silly superstition that about thirteen.

James Joyce. Ulysses (Page 90)

I have speculated elsewhere in this blog (Who was M’Intosh? December 23rd, 2014), about the man in the macintosh being a version of Stanislaus Joyce, but it was Stanislaus who noted that the impressions for the funeral scene in Ulysses must have been gathered from the two family funerals Joyce attended in the cemetery.

As Jim disliked funerals and avoided going to them , his impressions for the ‘Hades’ episode of Ulysses must have been gathered either at my mother’s funeral or at my younger brother Georgie’s. He was never in the cemetery again.

Stanislaus Joyce. My Brother’s Keeper (Page 235)

A headstone seems not to have been erected until after John Stanislaus Joyce’s death on the 29th December 1931, over fifty years since the plot was opened.

In accordance with the instructions from his father’s ghost (so the son suggested), the gravestone for Glasnevin was soon commissioned (via Alfie Bergan) from Harrison’s, who had done the arms of Dublin for the North City Markets in 1892. Bergan had heard directly from John Stanislaus that the inscription was to mention only John himself and his wife May. There would be nothing about the other Joyces in the same plot, not even poor Georgie or Baby.

John Wyse Jackson and Peter Costello. John Stanislaus Joyce (Page 425)

James Joyce could not have attended the first burial in the Joyce family plot. He could have attended the last, but chose not to return home for it, despite being named as his father’s sole heir. One of the curious aspects of the headstone is that there is no religious iconography. The white stone is surrounded by dark headstones, complete with obvious crucifix adornments. John Stanislaus left explicit instructions that only his name, and that of his wife were to appear on the headstone. The white colour, in stark contrast to those surrounding it, may have been chosen to indicate that children were also interred, white being the traditional colour of children’s coffins.


Costello, P. and Jackson, J.W. (1998) John Stanislaus Joyce: The Voluminous Life and Genius of James Joyce’s Father. London, United Kingdom: Fourth Estate.

Joyce, J. (1998) Ulysses. Edited by Hans Walter Gabler, Wolfhard Steppe, and Claus Melchior. Afterward by Michael Gordon edn. New York, United States: Vintage Books.

Joyce, S. (2003) My Brother’s Keeper: James Joyce’s Early Years. Edited by Richard Ellmann. Cambridge, Massachusetts, United States: Da Capo Press.
Monaghan, K. (2005) Joyce’s Dublin Family. Dublin: The James Joyce Centre.

Glasnevin Cemetery: 15 June 2015


Glasnevin Cemetery: 15 June 2015

Click here to see the route details on Runkeeper


—Agonising Christ, wouldn’t it give you a heartburn on your arse?

James Joyce. Ulysses (Page 102)

James Joyce’s father, John Stanislaus Joyce has many of the best lines in Joyce’s writings and appears in many different guises. Most obviously he appears as Simon Dedalus in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man as well as in Ulysses.

He was born in Cork on July 4th 1849. He is described in A Portrait:

    Stephen began to enumerate glibly his father’s attributes.
—A medical student, an oarsman, a tenor, an amateur actor, a shouting politician, a small landlord, a small investor, a drinker, a good fellow, a storyteller, somebody’s secretary, something in a distillery, a taxgatherer, a bankrupt and at present a praiser of his own past.

James Joyce. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (Page 213)

John Stanislaus Joyce died in Dublin on 29th December 1931, where he had been living on Claude Road in Drumcondra.

In early 1934, Paul Léon wrote to Constantine Curran saying that James Joyce wanted a bench erected on Whitworth Road , opposite Claude Road, and Curran replied saying that he had been in touch with the Corporation regarding siting. (The James Joyce Paul Léon Papers, page 90). I ran by and there is neither bench, nor space for one as Whitworth Road has no footpath on the southern side, opposite Claude Road. I doubled back up alongside the canal, with the railway separating the canal from Whitworth Road. This beautiful section of the canal would be a very fitting place for a bench.

A shared bench dedicated to father and son was finally erected in St. Stephen’s Green on June 14th 1977 and is described in John Stanislaus Joyce, The Voluminous Life and Genius of James Joyce’s Father, (page 438) by John Wyse Jackson and Peter Costello. The text on the bench dedication reads:

In memory of James Joyce, Dubliner and his father John Stanislaus Joyce, Corkonian. 6th International James Joyce Symposium 1977.

John Stanislaus Joyce divided opinion. This may be why the bench is shared and he is pointedly described as being a Corkonian. Stanislaus Joyce had an uncharitable view of his father, which is continuously expressed in his book, My Brother’s Keeper, James Joyce’s Early Years.

In more jovial moments he would tell the fable, culled from Aesop or who knows what medieval bestiary, of how a fox gets rid of its fleas. When the fox is plagued by fleas, he explained , it jumps into the river and swims about until all the fleas collect on its nose. Then it gives one good whiff and blows them all into the water. That’s what he would do with the whole bloody lot of us, with the help of God and His Holy Mother, and go back to Cork. He would quote Goldsmith’s lines,

And as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue,
Pants at the place from whence at first he flew,
I still had hopes, my long vexatious past,
There to return – and die at home at last.

I’ll get rid of you all and go back to Cork. But I will break your hearts before I go. Oh yes by God! See if I don’t. I’ll break your hearts, but I’ll break your stomachs first.

Stanislaus Joyce. My Brother’s Keeper (Page 240)

John Stanislaus Joyce never returned to Cork. There is an old Dublin saying about Cork people, told to me by my own father. When they get off the train in Hueston Station they throw a stone in the Liffey. And if it floats they go home.


Costello, P. and Jackson, J.W. (1998) John Stanislaus Joyce: The Voluminous Life and Genius of James Joyce’s Father. London, United Kingdom: Fourth Estate.

Fahy, C. (ed.) (1992) The James Joyce – Paul Léon Papers. Dublin, Ireland: National Library of Ireland.

Joyce, J. (1998) Ulysses. Edited by Hans Walter Gabler, Wolfhard Steppe, and Claus Melchior. Afterward by Michael Gordon edn. New York, United States: Vintage Books.

Joyce, J. (2007) A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, Authoritative Text, Backgrounds and Contexts Criticism. Edited by John Paul Riquelme, Hans Walter Gabler, and Walter Hettche. New York, United States: Norton, W. W. & Company.

Joyce, S. (2003) My Brother’s Keeper: James Joyce’s Early Years. Edited by Richard Ellmann. Cambridge, Massachusetts, United States: Da Capo Press.

Click here to see the route details on Runkeeper


    Love loves to love love. Nurse loves the new chemist. Constable 14A loves Mary Kelly. Gerty MacDowell loves the boy that has the bicycle. M. B. loves a fair gentleman. Li Chi Han lovey up kissy Cha Pu Chow. Jumbo, the elephant, loves Alice, the elephant. Old Mr Verschoyle with the ear trumpet loves old Mrs Verschoyle with the turnedin eye. The man in the brown macintosh loves a lady who is dead. His Majesty the King loves Her Majesty the Queen. Mrs Norman W. Tupper loves officer Taylor. You love a certain person. And this person loves that other person because everybody loves somebody but God loves everybody.

James Joyce. Ulysses (Page 273)

In the previous Blogpost, Barney Kiernan’s Pub,  I noted comments from Anthony Burgess that a knowledge of the city is not necessarily the key to understanding the works of Joyce. He is also concerned about too much being made of the biographical information that influenced Joyce’s writings.

In certain countries of the Far East, American films – even the most bizarre and fanciful – are taken for actuality, not fiction. Readers of Joyce in the West are sometimes no more sophisticated: they are more concerned with the biography of A Portrait than with the art, and they welcome Stephen Hero as a source of elucidation and gap-filling. This is desperately wrong.

Anthony Burgess. Re Joyce (Page 59)

One of that things that is interesting in the writings of James Joyce is his interweaving of facts into his fiction and the joy one can have teasing out their effects. I have previously quoted the Love loves to love list from the Cyclops episode of Ulysses in the blogpost about M’intosh and speculating that he is Mr. Duffy from the Dubliners story, A Painful Case. In Stanislaus Joyce’s book My Brother’s Keeper, James Joyce’s Early Years, Stanislaus points out (page 54) that he is the model for Mr. Duffy.

Our house was well down the lane and we had to run the gauntlet of the unwashed every evening coming home from school. In the end I had a fight with one of the most active of the cat-callers, a little red-headed rough-neck, who rejoiced in the sobriquet of Pisser Duffy. It was late in the afternoon, and the loungers from the cottages, and even the women, stood around without interfering. In the imaginary portrait for which I served as model. ‘A Painful Case’, my brother has given me the name of Duffy.

Joyce loves lists and in the middle of the Love loves to love list, as well as the man in the brown mackintosh, Joyce notes Jumbo, the elephant, loves Alice, the elephant.

In A Portrait, the figure of Dante appears in the early chapters. Dante, likely to be named after a Dublin child’s way of saying “the auntie” is based on a Mrs. Conway. Stanislaus writes of her unhappy marriage. She had entered a convent, but before her final vows were taken, a brother died and left her a lot of money. She left the convent and got married to a man who at a later date, ran off to Buenos Aires with most of her fortune, never to be seen by her again. Stanislaus writes,

In an elephantine attempt to be playful, his wife wrote to him, quoting a popular song of the time:

Jumbo said to Alice:
‘I love you’
Alice said to Jumbo:
‘I don’t believe you do:
For if you really loved me,
As you say you do,
You’d never go to Yankee town
And leave me in the zoo’

This pachydermatous frolicsomeness so outraged his sense of propriety that after a last indignant letter he never wrote to her again, and she lost all trace of him.

Stanislaus Joyce. My Brother’s Keeper (Page 9)

Knowing this section from Stanislaus’ book helps in understanding the passage in Ulysses and adds to the layers of meaning, which, though not remotely essential, leads to a richer understanding of the book.

One of the benefits of running is that it gives one time to think and with the above in mind I decided to run to Dublin Zoo. As the extract is from the Cyclops I decided to run via Arbour Hill, where the episode begins.

    *I was just passing the time of day with old Troy of the D. M. P. at the corner of Arbour hill there and be damned but a bloody sweep came along and he near drove his gear into my eye. I turned around to let him have the weight of my tongue when who should I see dodging along Stony Batter only Joe Hynes.
—Lo, Joe, says I. How are you blowing? Did you see that bloody chimneysweep near shove my eye out with his brush?
—Soot’s luck, says Joe. Who’s the old ballocks you were talking to?
—Old Troy, says I, was in the force. I’m on two minds not to give that fellow in charge for obstructing the thoroughfare with his brooms and ladders.
—What are you doing round those parts? says Joe.
—Devil a much, says I. There’s a bloody big foxy thief beyond by the garrison church at the corner of Chicken lane—old Troy was just giving me a wrinkle about him—lifted any God’s quantity of tea and sugar to pay three bob a week said he had a farm in the county Down off a hop-of-my-thumb by the name of Moses Herzog over there near Heytesbury Street.

James Joyce. Ulysses (Page 240)

It took me some time to figure out that Chicken Lane is now Arbour Place, and in this, one of the most accessible of the episodes in Ulysses the juxtaposition of the foxy thief at Chicken lane, is a tiny point of amusement in this wonderful episode.


Burgess, A. (1968) Re Joyce. New York, United States: W. W. Norton & Co.

Joyce, J. (1998) Ulysses. Edited by Hans Walter Gabler, Wolfhard Steppe, and Claus Melchior. Afterward by Michael Gordon edn. New York, United States: Vintage Books.

Joyce, S. (2003) My Brother’s Keeper: James Joyce’s Early Years. Edited by Richard Ellmann. Cambridge, Massachusetts, United States: Da Capo Press.

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