02/10/2024
"I noticed a gleaming new bar – not yet open – on the corner with Duke Street, where until recently had been a travel agency"
Frank McNally
Thu Sept 26 2024 - 18:59
I was meeting friends in Kehoe’s of South Anne Street, our regular Dublin haunt, last Friday night. And when the plans were made, we had envisaged sipping pints outside in the sunshine, as happened in July and August.
There are few more pleasant street corners on a weekend evening in warm weather. Occasionally, on the way home afterwards, I have even taken to humming a paraphrased version of Shane McGowan’s hymn to mindfulness and joy: “When it’s summer in South Anne ...”
But on Friday it was raining and the temperatures were suddenly autumnal. So we huddled instead in the snug at the back. And going home later, in the chilled darkness of late September, it was Thomas Moore I was rephrasing, sadly:
“Tis the last Kehoe’s of summer,/Left blooming alone;/All her lovely companions/Have faded and gone.”
A sign proclaimed it “The Burton”. And for anyone who has read Joyce’s Ulysses, the reference was unmistakable. Sure enough, a mural on the side depicted a moustachioed figure in a bowler hat. This could only be Leopold Bloom, whose fictional visit immortalised the original Burton, a hotel and restaurant.
The new development is clearly trading on its literary fame. But of possible inconvenience to this ambition is that Bloom did not stay to eat there in 1904. On the contrary, before leaving in a hurry, he gave the restaurant a review that, if repeated on TripAdvisor today, would be a PR catastrophe.
In Joyce’s Homeric parallel, this part of Ulysses echoes an episode in the Odyssey where the hero and his men arrive in Lestrygonia and find themselves among a race of cannibalistic giants who eat some the crew before Odysseus makes a narrow escape.
In the Dublin Lestrygonoia, Bloom is merely disgusted by the sights and smells that confront him: “Stink gripped his trembling breath: pungent meat juice, slop of greens. See the animals feed. Men. Men. Men.”
Joycean scholars have argued that the scene hints at his “latent vegetarianism”. In any case, revolted by what he sees in the Burton, the man who has begun his day eating “the inner organs of beasts and fowls”, he goes next door to Davy Byrne’s and opts for a gorgonzola sandwich.
In fairness to the people behind the new bar, they referenced the scene in their planning application. Indeed, the architectural statement includes even the indelicate detail of how, from the Burton’s doorway, Bloom’s refined nostrils picked up the smell of “men’s beery piss”.
Also of interest is that, by way of illustrating the site’s evolution, the architects included a picture the inaugural Bloomsday pilgrimage of 1954, with the Duke Lane corner in the background of Davy Byrne’s, occupied by a shopfront.
You will often hear it said in Dublin that the Bailey pub now stands where Burton’s did – I may have repeated this myself on occasion. In fact, while the Bailey is opposite Davy Byrne’s, the latter and the Burton were on the same side. Hence the line where, after his Burton ordeal, Bloom “came out into clearer air and turned back towards Grafton Street”.
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