Tea at Trianon: The Oldest Irish Pub in New York

John Wilson Croker on Marie-Antoinette

"We have followed the history of Marie Antoinette with the greatest diligence and scrupulosity. We have lived in those times. We have talked with some of her friends and some of her enemies; we have read, certainly not all, but hundreds of the libels written against her; and we have, in short, examined her life with– if we may be allowed to say so of ourselves– something of the accuracy of contemporaries, the diligence of inquirers, and the impartiality of historians, all combined; and we feel it our duty to declare, in as a solemn a manner as literature admits of, our well-matured opinion that every reproach against the morals of the queen was a gross calumny– that she was, as we have said, one of the purest of human beings."

~from History of the Guillotine by John Wilson Croker, 1844

Edmund Burke on Marie-Antoinette

"It is now sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the queen of France, then dauphiness, at Versailles; and surely there never lighted on this orb, which she hardly seemed to touch, a more delightful vision. I saw her just above the horizon, decorating and cheering the elevated sphere she had just begun to move in, glittering like a morning star full of life and splendor and joy. Oh, what a revolution....Little did I dream that I should have lived to see such disasters fall upon her, in a nation of gallant men, in a nation of men of honor and of cavaliers! I thought ten thousand swords must have leaped from their scabbards, to avenge even a look which threatened her with insult. But the age of chivalry is gone; that of sophisters, economists, and calculators has succeeded...."

~Edmund Burke, October 1790

Thursday, February 25, 2016

The Oldest Irish Pub in New York

From Irish Central:

The walls are covered with old artwork and newspaper articles, the floors covered with sawdust, and the seriously professional bar staff, many Irish, do give it a feeling of being “Old New York.” Apparently no piece of memorabilia has been removed from the establishment since 1910 and, based on the jumble that confronts you when you enter, that’s entirely believable. Each piece is a treasure – from Houdini’s handcuffs, which remain on the rail, to the priceless turkey wishbones hanging from the dirty oil lamp above the bar. The story goes that some local boys being shipped out to France during World War I celebrated their final meal with their families, a turkey dinner, and each brought the wishbone to the bar. The plan was that they would return and claim their wishbones. The wishbones that remain are those of the young men who never returned. When I last visited, the barman told the me the story, with great earnestness, and made no attempt to conceal his contempt for the city health inspectors who recently suggested that it be removed from the bar. They wouldn’t dream of it. (Read more.)