DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.51521#0044
day I felt that if Joe Blake did not choose to come up
from Mayo before the end of the week I would return to
London. But on the day decided for my clandestine de-
parture the sun was shining so prettily that I felt I must
go out and see Dublin once again, now clothed with blue
air as soft as silk.
Three doors away an enchantment awaited me, a great
pear tree flowering from the area to the top windows. A
lovely decoration, I said, for a Georgian house; and facing
the National Gallery I stopped to admire a piece of orna-
mental stonework with a niche in it, designed to hold a
statue probably, though the statue was absent, or may-
be designed to conceal the back yard of the keeper’s lodge.
I would have liked to linger to inquire the matter out,
but my head was full of A Mummer's Wife and I had
brought a notebook in which I looked forward to sketch-
ing the first chapters, in scenario of course. As I passed
on my way to Stephen’s Green I noticed that many of the
beautiful houses built at the beginning of the century
were already turned into offices. Land agitation had driven
the aristocracy out of them, and with the ascendancy
class gone everything beautiful in Ireland would soon be
a recollection of past days never to return.
The steps that lead to the hall doors of Merrion Square
are not more than a few inches above the street, but in
Stephen’s Green they rise to ten feet and are flanked by
lanterns of old time. Besides its steps, Stephen’s Green
from Mayo before the end of the week I would return to
London. But on the day decided for my clandestine de-
parture the sun was shining so prettily that I felt I must
go out and see Dublin once again, now clothed with blue
air as soft as silk.
Three doors away an enchantment awaited me, a great
pear tree flowering from the area to the top windows. A
lovely decoration, I said, for a Georgian house; and facing
the National Gallery I stopped to admire a piece of orna-
mental stonework with a niche in it, designed to hold a
statue probably, though the statue was absent, or may-
be designed to conceal the back yard of the keeper’s lodge.
I would have liked to linger to inquire the matter out,
but my head was full of A Mummer's Wife and I had
brought a notebook in which I looked forward to sketch-
ing the first chapters, in scenario of course. As I passed
on my way to Stephen’s Green I noticed that many of the
beautiful houses built at the beginning of the century
were already turned into offices. Land agitation had driven
the aristocracy out of them, and with the ascendancy
class gone everything beautiful in Ireland would soon be
a recollection of past days never to return.
The steps that lead to the hall doors of Merrion Square
are not more than a few inches above the street, but in
Stephen’s Green they rise to ten feet and are flanked by
lanterns of old time. Besides its steps, Stephen’s Green