Ulysses by James Joyce
Scylla and Charybdis

Leopold Bloom Telemachus
Scylla and Charybdis
Wandering Rocks
Oxen of the Sun

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Ulysses by James Joyce.
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[8739]     Urbane, to comfort them, the quaker librarian purred:
[8741]     --And we have, have we not, those priceless pages of WILHELM MEISTER. A
[8742]     great poet on a great brother poet. A hesitating soul taking arms against
[8743]     a sea of troubles, torn by conflicting doubts, as one sees in real life.
[8745]     He came a step a sinkapace forward on neatsleather creaking and a step
[8746]     backward a sinkapace on the solemn floor.
[8748]     A noiseless attendant setting open the door but slightly made him a
[8749]     noiseless beck.
[8751]     --Directly, said he, creaking to go, albeit lingering. The beautiful
[8752]     ineffectual dreamer who comes to grief against hard facts. One always
[8753]     feels that Goethe's judgments are so true. True in the larger analysis.
[8755]     Twicreakingly analysis he corantoed off. Bald, most zealous by the door
[8756]     he gave his large ear all to the attendant's words: heard them: and was
[8757]     gone.
[8759]     Two left.
[8761]     --Monsieur de la Palice, Stephen sneered, was alive fifteen minutes
[8762]     before his death.
[8764]     --Have you found those six brave medicals, John Eglinton asked with
[8765]     elder's gall, to write PARADISE LOST at your dictation? THE SORROWS OF
[8766]     SATAN he calls it.
[8768]     Smile. Smile Cranly's smile.
[8771]         FIRST HE TICKLED HER
[8772]         THEN HE PATTED HER
[8774]         FOR HE WAS A MEDICAL
[8775]         JOLLY OLD MEDI ...
[8778]     --I feel you would need one more for HAMLET. Seven is dear to the mystic
[8779]     mind. The shining seven W.B. calls them.
[8781]     Glittereyed his rufous skull close to his greencapped desklamp sought the
[8782]     face bearded amid darkgreener shadow, an ollav, holyeyed. He laughed low:
[8783]     a sizar's laugh of Trinity: unanswered.
[8791]     He holds my follies hostage.
[8793]     Cranly's eleven true Wicklowmen to free their sireland. Gaptoothed
[8794]     Kathleen, her four beautiful green fields, the stranger in her house. And
[8795]     one more to hail him: AVE, RABBI: the Tinahely twelve. In the shadow of
[8796]     the glen he cooees for them. My soul's youth I gave him, night by night.
[8797]     God speed. Good hunting.
[8799]     Mulligan has my telegram.
[8801]     Folly. Persist.
[8803]     --Our young Irish bards, John Eglinton censured, have yet to create a
[8804]     figure which the world will set beside Saxon Shakespeare's Hamlet though
[8805]     I admire him, as old Ben did, on this side idolatry.
[8807]     --All these questions are purely academic, Russell oracled out of his
[8808]     shadow. I mean, whether Hamlet is Shakespeare or James I or Essex.
[8809]     Clergymen's discussions of the historicity of Jesus. Art has to reveal to
[8810]     us ideas, formless spiritual essences. The supreme question about a work
[8811]     of art is out of how deep a life does it spring. The painting of Gustave
[8812]     Moreau is the painting of ideas. The deepest poetry of Shelley, the words
[8813]     of Hamlet bring our minds into contact with the eternal wisdom, Plato's
[8814]     world of ideas. All the rest is the speculation of schoolboys for
[8815]     schoolboys.
[8817]     A. E. has been telling some yankee interviewer. Wall, tarnation strike
[8818]     me!
[8820]     --The schoolmen were schoolboys first, Stephen said superpolitely.
[8821]     Aristotle was once Plato's schoolboy.
[8823]     --And has remained so, one should hope, John Eglinton sedately said. One
[8824]     can see him, a model schoolboy with his diploma under his arm.
[8826]     He laughed again at the now smiling bearded face.
[8828]     Formless spiritual. Father, Word and Holy Breath. Allfather, the heavenly
[8829]     man. Hiesos Kristos, magician of the beautiful, the Logos who suffers in
[8830]     us at every moment. This verily is that. I am the fire upon the altar. I
[8831]     am the sacrificial butter.
[8833]     Dunlop, Judge, the noblest Roman of them all, A.E., Arval, the Name
[8834]     Ineffable, in heaven hight: K.H., their master, whose identity is no
[8835]     secret to adepts. Brothers of the great white lodge always watching to
[8836]     see if they can help. The Christ with the bridesister, moisture of light,
[8837]     born of an ensouled virgin, repentant sophia, departed to the plane of
[8838]     buddhi. The life esoteric is not for ordinary person. O.P. must work off
[8839]     bad karma first. Mrs Cooper Oakley once glimpsed our very illustrious
[8840]     sister H.P.B.'s elemental.
[8842]     O, fie! Out on't! PFUITEUFEL! You naughtn't to look, missus, so you
[8843]     naughtn't when a lady's ashowing of her elemental.
[8845]     Mr Best entered, tall, young, mild, light. He bore in his hand with grace
[8846]     a notebook, new, large, clean, bright.
[8848]     --That model schoolboy, Stephen said, would find Hamlet's musings about
[8849]     the afterlife of his princely soul, the improbable, insignificant and
[8850]     undramatic monologue, as shallow as Plato's.
[8852]     John Eglinton, frowning, said, waxing wroth:
[8854]     --Upon my word it makes my blood boil to hear anyone compare Aristotle
[8855]     with Plato.
[8857]     --Which of the two, Stephen asked, would have banished me from his
[8858]     commonwealth?
[8860]     Unsheathe your dagger definitions. Horseness is the whatness of allhorse.
[8861]     Streams of tendency and eons they worship. God: noise in the street: very
[8862]     peripatetic. Space: what you damn well have to see. Through spaces
[8863]     smaller than red globules of man's blood they creepycrawl after Blake's
[8864]     buttocks into eternity of which this vegetable world is but a shadow.
[8865]     Hold to the now, the here, through which all future plunges to the past.
[8867]     Mr Best came forward, amiable, towards his colleague.
[8869]     --Haines is gone, he said.
[8871]     --Is he?
[8873]     --I was showing him Jubainville's book. He's quite enthusiastic, don't
[8874]     you know, about Hyde's LOVESONGS OF CONNACHT. I couldn't bring him in to
[8875]     hear the discussion. He's gone to Gill's to buy it.
[8880]         WRIT, I WEEN, 'TWAS NOT MY WISH
[8884]     --The peatsmoke is going to his head, John Eglinton opined.
[8886]     We feel in England. Penitent thief. Gone. I smoked his baccy. Green
[8887]     twinkling stone. An emerald set in the ring of the sea.
[8889]     --People do not know how dangerous lovesongs can be, the auric egg of
[8890]     Russell warned occultly. The movements which work revolutions in the
[8891]     world are born out of the dreams and visions in a peasant's heart on the
[8892]     hillside. For them the earth is not an exploitable ground but the living
[8893]     mother. The rarefied air of the academy and the arena produce the
[8894]     sixshilling novel, the musichall song. France produces the finest flower
[8895]     of corruption in Mallarme but the desirable life is revealed only to the
[8896]     poor of heart, the life of Homer's Phaeacians.
[8898]     From these words Mr Best turned an unoffending face to Stephen.
[8900]     --Mallarme, don't you know, he said, has written those wonderful prose
[8901]     poems Stephen MacKenna used to read to me in Paris. The one about HAMLET.
[8902]     He says: IL SE PROMENE, LISANT AU LIVRE DE LUI-MEME, don't you know,
[8903]     READING THE BOOK OF HIMSELF. He describes HAMLET given in a French town,
[8904]     don't you know, a provincial town. They advertised it.
[8906]     His free hand graciously wrote tiny signs in air.
[8909]         HAMLET
[8910]         OU
[8911]         LE DISTRAIT
[8915]      He repeated to John Eglinton's newgathered frown:
[8917]     --PIECE DE SHAKESPEARE, don't you know. It's so French. The French point
[8918]     of view. HAMLET OU ...
[8920]     --The absentminded beggar, Stephen ended.
[8922]      John Eglinton laughed.
[8924]     --Yes, I suppose it would be, he said. Excellent people, no doubt, but
[8925]     distressingly shortsighted in some matters.
[8927]      Sumptuous and stagnant exaggeration of murder.
[8929]     --A deathsman of the soul Robert Greene called him, Stephen said. Not for
[8930]     nothing was he a butcher's son, wielding the sledded poleaxe and spitting
[8931]     in his palms. Nine lives are taken off for his father's one. Our Father
[8932]     who art in purgatory. Khaki Hamlets don't hesitate to shoot. The
[8933]     bloodboltered shambles in act five is a forecast of the concentration
[8934]     camp sung by Mr Swinburne.
[8936]     Cranly, I his mute orderly, following battles from afar.
[8939]         BUT WE HAD SPARED ...
[8942]     Between the Saxon smile and yankee yawp. The devil and the deep sea.
[8944]     --He will have it that HAMLET is a ghoststory, John Eglinton said for Mr
[8945]     Best's behoof. Like the fat boy in Pickwick he wants to make our flesh
[8946]     creep.
[8949]         LIST! LIST! O LIST!
[8952]     My flesh hears him: creeping, hears.
[8955]         IF THOU DIDST EVER ...
[8958]     --What is a ghost? Stephen said with tingling energy. One who has faded
[8959]     into impalpability through death, through absence, through change of
[8960]     manners. Elizabethan London lay as far from Stratford as corrupt Paris
[8961]     lies from virgin Dublin. Who is the ghost from LIMBO PATRUM, returning to
[8962]     the world that has forgotten him? Who is King Hamlet?
[8964]     John Eglinton shifted his spare body, leaning back to judge.
[8966]     Lifted.
[8968]     --It is this hour of a day in mid June, Stephen said, begging with a
[8969]     swift glance their hearing. The flag is up on the playhouse by the
[8970]     bankside. The bear Sackerson growls in the pit near it, Paris garden.
[8971]     Canvasclimbers who sailed with Drake chew their sausages among the
[8972]     groundlings.
[8974]     Local colour. Work in all you know. Make them accomplices.
[8976]     --Shakespeare has left the huguenot's house in Silver street and walks by
[8977]     the swanmews along the riverbank. But he does not stay to feed the pen
[8978]     chivying her game of cygnets towards the rushes. The swan of Avon has
[8979]     other thoughts.
[8981]     Composition of place. Ignatius Loyola, make haste to help me!
[8983]     --The play begins. A player comes on under the shadow, made up in the
[8984]     castoff mail of a court buck, a wellset man with a bass voice. It is the
[8985]     ghost, the king, a king and no king, and the player is Shakespeare who
[8986]     has studied HAMLET all the years of his life which were not vanity in
[8987]     order to play the part of the spectre. He speaks the words to Burbage,
[8988]     the young player who stands before him beyond the rack of cerecloth,
[8989]     calling him by a name:
[8993]     bidding him list. To a son he speaks, the son of his soul, the prince,
[8994]     young Hamlet and to the son of his body, Hamnet Shakespeare, who has died
[8995]     in Stratford that his namesake may live for ever.
[8997]     Is it possible that that player Shakespeare, a ghost by absence, and in
[8998]     the vesture of buried Denmark, a ghost by death, speaking his own words
[8999]     to his own son's name (had Hamnet Shakespeare lived he would have been
[9000]     prince Hamlet's twin), is it possible, I want to know, or probable that
[9001]     he did not draw or foresee the logical conclusion of those premises: you
[9002]     are the dispossessed son: I am the murdered father: your mother is the
[9003]     guilty queen, Ann Shakespeare, born Hathaway?
[9005]     --But this prying into the family life of a great man, Russell began
[9006]     impatiently.
[9008]     Art thou there, truepenny?
[9010]     --Interesting only to the parish clerk. I mean, we have the plays. I mean
[9011]     when we read the poetry of KING LEAR what is it to us how the poet lived?
[9012]     As for living our servants can do that for us, Villiers de l'Isle has
[9013]     said. Peeping and prying into greenroom gossip of the day, the poet's
[9014]     drinking, the poet's debts. We have KING LEAR: and it is immortal.
[9016]     Mr Best's face, appealed to, agreed.
[9020]         MANANAAN MACLIR ...
[9023]     How now, sirrah, that pound he lent you when you were hungry?
[9025]     Marry, I wanted it.
[9027]     Take thou this noble.
[9029]     Go to! You spent most of it in Georgina Johnson's bed, clergyman's
[9030]     daughter. Agenbite of inwit.
[9032]     Do you intend to pay it back?
[9034]     O, yes.
[9036]     When? Now?
[9038]     Well ... No.
[9040]     When, then?
[9042]     I paid my way. I paid my way.
[9044]     Steady on. He's from beyant Boyne water. The northeast corner. You owe
[9045]     it.
[9047]     Wait. Five months. Molecules all change. I am other I now. Other I got
[9048]     pound.
[9050]     Buzz. Buzz.
[9052]     But I, entelechy, form of forms, am I by memory because under
[9053]     everchanging forms.
[9055]     I that sinned and prayed and fasted.
[9057]     A child Conmee saved from pandies.
[9059]     I, I and I. I.
[9061]     A.E.I.O.U.
[9063]     --Do you mean to fly in the face of the tradition of three centuries?
[9064]     John Eglinton's carping voice asked. Her ghost at least has been laid for
[9065]     ever. She died, for literature at least, before she was born.
[9067]     --She died, Stephen retorted, sixtyseven years after she was born. She
[9068]     saw him into and out of the world. She took his first embraces. She bore
[9069]     his children and she laid pennies on his eyes to keep his eyelids closed
[9070]     when he lay on his deathbed.
[9072]     Mother's deathbed. Candle. The sheeted mirror. Who brought me into this
[9073]     world lies there, bronzelidded, under few cheap flowers. LILIATA
[9074]     RUTILANTIUM.
[9076]     I wept alone.
[9078]     John Eglinton looked in the tangled glowworm of his lamp.
[9080]     --The world believes that Shakespeare made a mistake, he said, and got
[9081]     out of it as quickly and as best he could.
[9083]     --Bosh! Stephen said rudely. A man of genius makes no mistakes. His
[9084]     errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery.
[9086]     Portals of discovery opened to let in the quaker librarian,
[9087]     softcreakfooted, bald, eared and assiduous.
[9089]     --A shrew, John Eglinton said shrewdly, is not a useful portal of
[9090]     discovery, one should imagine. What useful discovery did Socrates learn
[9091]     from Xanthippe?
[9093]     --Dialectic, Stephen answered: and from his mother how to bring thoughts
[9094]     into the world. What he learnt from his other wife Myrto (ABSIT NOMEN!),
[9095]     Socratididion's Epipsychidion, no man, not a woman, will ever know. But
[9096]     neither the midwife's lore nor the caudlelectures saved him from the
[9097]     archons of Sinn Fein and their naggin of hemlock.
[9099]     --But Ann Hathaway? Mr Best's quiet voice said forgetfully. Yes, we seem
[9100]     to be forgetting her as Shakespeare himself forgot her.
[9102]     His look went from brooder's beard to carper's skull, to remind, to chide
[9103]     them not unkindly, then to the baldpink lollard costard, guiltless though
[9104]     maligned.
[9106]     --He had a good groatsworth of wit, Stephen said, and no truant memory.
[9107]     He carried a memory in his wallet as he trudged to Romeville whistling
[9108]     THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME. If the earthquake did not time it we should
[9109]     know where to place poor Wat, sitting in his form, the cry of hounds, the
[9110]     studded bridle and her blue windows. That memory, VENUS AND ADONIS, lay
[9111]     in the bedchamber of every light-of-love in London. Is Katharine the
[9112]     shrew illfavoured? Hortensio calls her young and beautiful. Do you think
[9113]     the writer of ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, a passionate pilgrim, had his eyes in
[9114]     the back of his head that he chose the ugliest doxy in all Warwickshire
[9115]     to lie withal? Good: he left her and gained the world of men. But his
[9116]     boywomen are the women of a boy. Their life, thought, speech are lent
[9117]     them by males. He chose badly? He was chosen, it seems to me. If others
[9118]     have their will Ann hath a way. By cock, she was to blame. She put the
[9119]     comether on him, sweet and twentysix. The greyeyed goddess who bends over
[9120]     the boy Adonis, stooping to conquer, as prologue to the swelling act, is
[9121]     a boldfaced Stratford wench who tumbles in a cornfield a lover younger
[9122]     than herself.
[9124]     And my turn? When?
[9126]     Come!
[9128]     --Ryefield, Mr Best said brightly, gladly, raising his new book, gladly,
[9129]     brightly.
[9131]     He murmured then with blond delight for all:
[9138]     Paris: the wellpleased pleaser.
[9140]     A tall figure in bearded homespun rose from shadow and unveiled its
[9141]     cooperative watch.
[9143]     --I am afraid I am due at the HOMESTEAD.
[9145]     Whither away? Exploitable ground.
[9147]     --Are you going? John Eglinton's active eyebrows asked. Shall we see you
[9148]     at Moore's tonight? Piper is coming.
[9150]     --Piper! Mr Best piped. Is Piper back?
[9152]     Peter Piper pecked a peck of pick of peck of pickled pepper.
[9154]     --I don't know if I can. Thursday. We have our meeting. If I can get away
[9155]     in time.
[9157]     Yogibogeybox in Dawson chambers. ISIS UNVEILED. Their Pali book we tried
[9158]     to pawn. Crosslegged under an umbrel umbershoot he thrones an Aztec
[9159]     logos, functioning on astral levels, their oversoul, mahamahatma. The
[9160]     faithful hermetists await the light, ripe for chelaship, ringroundabout
[9161]     him. Louis H. Victory. T. Caulfield Irwin. Lotus ladies tend them i'the
[9162]     eyes, their pineal glands aglow. Filled with his god, he thrones, Buddh
[9163]     under plantain. Gulfer of souls, engulfer. Hesouls, shesouls, shoals of
[9164]     souls. Engulfed with wailing creecries, whirled, whirling, they bewail.
[9171]     --They say we are to have a literary surprise, the quaker librarian said,
[9172]     friendly and earnest. Mr Russell, rumour has it, is gathering together a
[9173]     sheaf of our younger poets' verses. We are all looking forward anxiously.
[9175]     Anxiously he glanced in the cone of lamplight where three faces, lighted,
[9176]     shone.
[9178]     See this. Remember.
[9180]     Stephen looked down on a wide headless caubeen, hung on his
[9181]     ashplanthandle over his knee. My casque and sword. Touch lightly with two
[9182]     index fingers. Aristotle's experiment. One or two? Necessity is that in
[9183]     virtue of which it is impossible that one can be otherwise. Argal, one
[9184]     hat is one hat.
[9186]     Listen.
[9188]     Young Colum and Starkey. George Roberts is doing the commercial part.
[9189]     Longworth will give it a good puff in the EXPRESS. O, will he? I liked
[9190]     Colum's DROVER. Yes, I think he has that queer thing genius. Do you think
[9191]     he has genius really? Yeats admired his line: AS IN WILD EARTH A GRECIAN
[9192]     VASE. Did he? I hope you'll be able to come tonight. Malachi Mulligan is
[9193]     coming too. Moore asked him to bring Haines. Did you hear Miss Mitchell's
[9194]     joke about Moore and Martyn? That Moore is Martyn's wild oats? Awfully
[9195]     clever, isn't it? They remind one of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Our
[9196]     national epic has yet to be written, Dr Sigerson says. Moore is the man
[9197]     for it. A knight of the rueful countenance here in Dublin. With a saffron
[9198]     kilt? O'Neill Russell? O, yes, he must speak the grand old tongue. And
[9199]     his Dulcinea? James Stephens is doing some clever sketches. We are
[9200]     becoming important, it seems.
[9202]     Cordelia. CORDOGLIO. Lir's loneliest daughter.
[9204]     Nookshotten. Now your best French polish.
[9206]     --Thank you very much, Mr Russell, Stephen said, rising. If you will be
[9207]     so kind as to give the letter to Mr Norman ...
[9209]     --O, yes. If he considers it important it will go in. We have so much
[9210]     correspondence.
[9212]     --I understand, Stephen said. Thanks.
[9214]     God ild you. The pigs' paper. Bullockbefriending.
[9216]     Synge has promised me an article for DANA too. Are we going to be read? I
[9217]     feel we are. The Gaelic league wants something in Irish. I hope you will
[9218]     come round tonight. Bring Starkey.
[9220]     Stephen sat down.
[9222]     The quaker librarian came from the leavetakers. Blushing, his mask said:
[9224]     --Mr Dedalus, your views are most illuminating.
[9226]     He creaked to and fro, tiptoing up nearer heaven by the altitude of a
[9227]     chopine, and, covered by the noise of outgoing, said low:
[9229]     --Is it your view, then, that she was not faithful to the poet?
[9231]     Alarmed face asks me. Why did he come? Courtesy or an inward light?
[9233]     --Where there is a reconciliation, Stephen said, there must have been
[9234]     first a sundering.
[9236]     --Yes.
[9238]     Christfox in leather trews, hiding, a runaway in blighted treeforks, from
[9239]     hue and cry. Knowing no vixen, walking lonely in the chase. Women he won
[9240]     to him, tender people, a whore of Babylon, ladies of justices, bully
[9241]     tapsters' wives. Fox and geese. And in New Place a slack dishonoured body
[9242]     that once was comely, once as sweet, as fresh as cinnamon, now her leaves
[9243]     falling, all, bare, frighted of the narrow grave and unforgiven.
[9245]     --Yes. So you think ...
[9247]     The door closed behind the outgoer.
[9249]     Rest suddenly possessed the discreet vaulted cell, rest of warm and
[9250]     brooding air.
[9252]     A vestal's lamp.
[9254]     Here he ponders things that were not: what Caesar would have lived to do
[9255]     had he believed the soothsayer: what might have been: possibilities of
[9256]     the possible as possible: things not known: what name Achilles bore when
[9257]     he lived among women.
[9259]     Coffined thoughts around me, in mummycases, embalmed in spice of words.
[9260]     Thoth, god of libraries, a birdgod, moonycrowned. And I heard the voice
[9261]     of that Egyptian highpriest. IN PAINTED CHAMBERS LOADED WITH TILEBOOKS.
[9263]     They are still. Once quick in the brains of men. Still: but an itch of
[9264]     death is in them, to tell me in my ear a maudlin tale, urge me to wreak
[9265]     their will.
[9267]     --Certainly, John Eglinton mused, of all great men he is the most
[9268]     enigmatic. We know nothing but that he lived and suffered. Not even so
[9269]     much. Others abide our question. A shadow hangs over all the rest.
[9271]     --But HAMLET is so personal, isn't it? Mr Best pleaded. I mean, a kind of
[9272]     private paper, don't you know, of his private life. I mean, I don't care
[9273]     a button, don't you know, who is killed or who is guilty ...
[9275]     He rested an innocent book on the edge of the desk, smiling his defiance.
[9276]     His private papers in the original. TA AN BAD AR AN TIR. TAIM IN MO
[9277]     SHAGART. Put beurla on it, littlejohn.
[9279]     Quoth littlejohn Eglinton:
[9281]     --I was prepared for paradoxes from what Malachi Mulligan told us but I
[9282]     may as well warn you that if you want to shake my belief that Shakespeare
[9283]     is Hamlet you have a stern task before you.
[9285]     Bear with me.
[9287]     Stephen withstood the bane of miscreant eyes glinting stern under
[9288]     wrinkled brows. A basilisk. E QUANDO VEDE L'UOMO L'ATTOSCA. Messer
[9289]     Brunetto, I thank thee for the word.
[9291]     --As we, or mother Dana, weave and unweave our bodies, Stephen said, from
[9292]     day to day, their molecules shuttled to and fro, so does the artist weave
[9293]     and unweave his image. And as the mole on my right breast is where it was
[9294]     when I was born, though all my body has been woven of new stuff time
[9295]     after time, so through the ghost of the unquiet father the image of the
[9296]     unliving son looks forth. In the intense instant of imagination, when the
[9297]     mind, Shelley says, is a fading coal, that which I was is that which I am
[9298]     and that which in possibility I may come to be. So in the future, the
[9299]     sister of the past, I may see myself as I sit here now but by reflection
[9300]     from that which then I shall be.
[9302]     Drummond of Hawthornden helped you at that stile.
[9304]     --Yes, Mr Best said youngly. I feel Hamlet quite young. The bitterness
[9305]     might be from the father but the passages with Ophelia are surely from
[9306]     the son.
[9308]     Has the wrong sow by the lug. He is in my father. I am in his son.
[9310]     --That mole is the last to go, Stephen said, laughing.
[9312]     John Eglinton made a nothing pleasing mow.
[9314]     --If that were the birthmark of genius, he said, genius would be a drug
[9315]     in the market. The plays of Shakespeare's later years which Renan admired
[9316]     so much breathe another spirit.
[9318]     --The spirit of reconciliation, the quaker librarian breathed.
[9320]     --There can be no reconciliation, Stephen said, if there has not been a
[9321]     sundering.
[9323]     Said that.
[9325]     --If you want to know what are the events which cast their shadow over
[9326]     the hell of time of KING LEAR, OTHELLO, HAMLET, TROILUS AND CRESSIDA,
[9327]     look to see when and how the shadow lifts. What softens the heart of a
[9328]     man, shipwrecked in storms dire, Tried, like another Ulysses, Pericles,
[9329]     prince of Tyre?
[9331]     Head, redconecapped, buffeted, brineblinded.
[9333]     --A child, a girl, placed in his arms, Marina.
[9335]     --The leaning of sophists towards the bypaths of apocrypha is a constant
[9336]     quantity, John Eglinton detected. The highroads are dreary but they lead
[9337]     to the town.
[9339]     Good Bacon: gone musty. Shakespeare Bacon's wild oats. Cypherjugglers
[9340]     going the highroads. Seekers on the great quest. What town, good masters?
[9341]     Mummed in names: A. E., eon: Magee, John Eglinton. East of the sun, west
[9342]     of the moon: TIR NA N-OG. Booted the twain and staved.
[9345]         HOW MANY MILES TO DUBLIN?
[9346]         THREE SCORE AND TEN, SIR.
[9350]     --Mr Brandes accepts it, Stephen said, as the first play of the closing
[9351]     period.
[9353]     --Does he? What does Mr Sidney Lee, or Mr Simon Lazarus as some aver his
[9354]     name is, say of it?
[9356]     --Marina, Stephen said, a child of storm, Miranda, a wonder, Perdita,
[9357]     that which was lost. What was lost is given back to him: his daughter's
[9358]     child. MY DEAREST WIFE, Pericles says, WAS LIKE THIS MAID. Will any man
[9359]     love the daughter if he has not loved the mother?
[9361]     --The art of being a grandfather, Mr Best gan murmur. L'ART D'ETRE GRAND
[9364]     --Will he not see reborn in her, with the memory of his own youth added,
[9365]     another image?
[9367]     Do you know what you are talking about? Love, yes. Word known to all men.
[9368]     Amor vero aliquid alicui bonum vult unde et ea quae concupiscimus ...
[9370]     --His own image to a man with that queer thing genius is the standard of
[9371]     all experience, material and moral. Such an appeal will touch him. The
[9372]     images of other males of his blood will repel him. He will see in them
[9373]     grotesque attempts of nature to foretell or to repeat himself.
[9375]     The benign forehead of the quaker librarian enkindled rosily with hope.
[9377]     --I hope Mr Dedalus will work out his theory for the enlightenment of the
[9378]     public. And we ought to mention another Irish commentator, Mr George
[9379]     Bernard Shaw. Nor should we forget Mr Frank Harris. His articles on
[9380]     Shakespeare in the SATURDAY REVIEW were surely brilliant. Oddly enough he
[9381]     too draws for us an unhappy relation with the dark lady of the sonnets.
[9382]     The favoured rival is William Herbert, earl of Pembroke. I own that if
[9383]     the poet must be rejected such a rejection would seem more in harmony
[9384]     with--what shall I say?--our notions of what ought not to have been.
[9386]     Felicitously he ceased and held a meek head among them, auk's egg, prize
[9387]     of their fray.
[9389]     He thous and thees her with grave husbandwords. Dost love, Miriam? Dost
[9390]     love thy man?
[9392]     --That may be too, Stephen said. There's a saying of Goethe's which Mr
[9393]     Magee likes to quote. Beware of what you wish for in youth because you
[9394]     will get it in middle life. Why does he send to one who is a BUONAROBA, a
[9395]     bay where all men ride, a maid of honour with a scandalous girlhood, a
[9396]     lordling to woo for him? He was himself a lord of language and had made
[9397]     himself a coistrel gentleman and he had written ROMEO AND JULIET. Why?
[9398]     Belief in himself has been untimely killed. He was overborne in a
[9399]     cornfield first (ryefield, I should say) and he will never be a victor in
[9400]     his own eyes after nor play victoriously the game of laugh and lie down.
[9401]     Assumed dongiovannism will not save him. No later undoing will undo the
[9402]     first undoing. The tusk of the boar has wounded him there where love lies
[9403]     ableeding. If the shrew is worsted yet there remains to her woman's
[9404]     invisible weapon. There is, I feel in the words, some goad of the flesh
[9405]     driving him into a new passion, a darker shadow of the first, darkening
[9406]     even his own understanding of himself. A like fate awaits him and the two
[9407]     rages commingle in a whirlpool.
[9409]     They list. And in the porches of their ears I pour.
[9411]     --The soul has been before stricken mortally, a poison poured in the
[9412]     porch of a sleeping ear. But those who are done to death in sleep cannot
[9413]     know the manner of their quell unless their Creator endow their souls
[9414]     with that knowledge in the life to come. The poisoning and the beast with
[9415]     two backs that urged it King Hamlet's ghost could not know of were he not
[9416]     endowed with knowledge by his creator. That is why the speech (his lean
[9417]     unlovely English) is always turned elsewhere, backward. Ravisher and
[9418]     ravished, what he would but would not, go with him from Lucrece's
[9419]     bluecircled ivory globes to Imogen's breast, bare, with its mole
[9420]     cinquespotted. He goes back, weary of the creation he has piled up to
[9421]     hide him from himself, an old dog licking an old sore. But, because loss
[9422]     is his gain, he passes on towards eternity in undiminished personality,
[9423]     untaught by the wisdom he has written or by the laws he has revealed. His
[9424]     beaver is up. He is a ghost, a shadow now, the wind by Elsinore's rocks
[9425]     or what you will, the sea's voice, a voice heard only in the heart of him
[9426]     who is the substance of his shadow, the son consubstantial with the
[9427]     father.
[9429]     --Amen! was responded from the doorway.
[9431]     Hast thou found me, O mine enemy?
[9433]     ENTR'ACTE.
[9435]     A ribald face, sullen as a dean's, Buck Mulligan came forward, then
[9436]     blithe in motley, towards the greeting of their smiles. My telegram.
[9438]     --You were speaking of the gaseous vertebrate, if I mistake not? he asked
[9439]     of Stephen.
[9441]     Primrosevested he greeted gaily with his doffed Panama as with a bauble.
[9443]     They make him welcome. WAS DU VERLACHST WIRST DU NOCH DIENEN.
[9445]     Brood of mockers: Photius, pseudomalachi, Johann Most.
[9447]     He Who Himself begot middler the Holy Ghost and Himself sent Himself,
[9448]     Agenbuyer, between Himself and others, Who, put upon by His fiends,
[9449]     stripped and whipped, was nailed like bat to barndoor, starved on
[9450]     crosstree, Who let Him bury, stood up, harrowed hell, fared into heaven
[9451]     and there these nineteen hundred years sitteth on the right hand of His
[9452]     Own Self but yet shall come in the latter day to doom the quick and dead
[9453]     when all the quick shall be dead already.
[9455]     Glo--o--ri--a in ex--cel--sis De--o.
[9457]     He lifts his hands. Veils fall. O, flowers! Bells with bells with bells
[9458]     aquiring.
[9460]     --Yes, indeed, the quaker librarian said. A most instructive discussion.
[9461]     Mr Mulligan, I'll be bound, has his theory too of the play and of
[9462]     Shakespeare. All sides of life should be represented.
[9464]     He smiled on all sides equally.
[9466]     Buck Mulligan thought, puzzled:
[9468]     --Shakespeare? he said. I seem to know the name.
[9470]     A flying sunny smile rayed in his loose features.
[9472]     --To be sure, he said, remembering brightly. The chap that writes like
[9473]     Synge.
[9475]     Mr Best turned to him.
[9477]     --Haines missed you, he said. Did you meet him? He'll see you after at
[9478]     the D. B. C. He's gone to Gill's to buy Hyde's LOVESONGS OF CONNACHT.
[9480]     --I came through the museum, Buck Mulligan said. Was he here?
[9482]     --The bard's fellowcountrymen, John Eglinton answered, are rather tired
[9483]     perhaps of our brilliancies of theorising. I hear that an actress played
[9484]     Hamlet for the fourhundredandeighth time last night in Dublin. Vining
[9485]     held that the prince was a woman. Has no-one made him out to be an
[9486]     Irishman? Judge Barton, I believe, is searching for some clues. He swears
[9487]     (His Highness not His Lordship) by saint Patrick.
[9489]     --The most brilliant of all is that story of Wilde's, Mr Best said,
[9490]     lifting his brilliant notebook. That PORTRAIT OF MR W. H. where he proves
[9491]     that the sonnets were written by a Willie Hughes, a man all hues.
[9493]     --For Willie Hughes, is it not? the quaker librarian asked.
[9495]     Or Hughie Wills? Mr William Himself. W. H.: who am I?
[9497]     --I mean, for Willie Hughes, Mr Best said, amending his gloss easily. Of
[9498]     course it's all paradox, don't you know, Hughes and hews and hues, the
[9499]     colour, but it's so typical the way he works it out. It's the very
[9500]     essence of Wilde, don't you know. The light touch.
[9502]     His glance touched their faces lightly as he smiled, a blond ephebe. Tame
[9503]     essence of Wilde.
[9505]     You're darned witty. Three drams of usquebaugh you drank with Dan Deasy's
[9506]     ducats.
[9508]     How much did I spend? O, a few shillings.
[9510]     For a plump of pressmen. Humour wet and dry.
[9512]     Wit. You would give your five wits for youth's proud livery he pranks in.
[9513]     Lineaments of gratified desire.
[9515]     There be many mo. Take her for me. In pairing time. Jove, a cool ruttime
[9516]     send them. Yea, turtledove her.
[9518]     Eve. Naked wheatbellied sin. A snake coils her, fang in's kiss.
[9520]     --Do you think it is only a paradox? the quaker librarian was asking. The
[9521]     mocker is never taken seriously when he is most serious.
[9523]     They talked seriously of mocker's seriousness.
[9525]     Buck Mulligan's again heavy face eyed Stephen awhile. Then, his head
[9526]     wagging, he came near, drew a folded telegram from his pocket. His mobile
[9527]     lips read, smiling with new delight.
[9529]     --Telegram! he said. Wonderful inspiration! Telegram! A papal bull!
[9531]     He sat on a corner of the unlit desk, reading aloud joyfully:
[9534]     DEBTORSHIP FOR A THING DONE. Signed: Dedalus. Where did you launch it
[9535]     from? The kips? No. College Green. Have you drunk the four quid? The aunt
[9536]     is going to call on your unsubstantial father. Telegram! Malachi
[9537]     Mulligan, The Ship, lower Abbey street. O, you peerless mummer! O, you
[9538]     priestified Kinchite!
[9540]     Joyfully he thrust message and envelope into a pocket but keened in a
[9541]     querulous brogue:
[9543]     --It's what I'm telling you, mister honey, it's queer and sick we were,
[9544]     Haines and myself, the time himself brought it in. 'Twas murmur we did
[9545]     for a gallus potion would rouse a friar, I'm thinking, and he limp with
[9546]     leching. And we one hour and two hours and three hours in Connery's
[9547]     sitting civil waiting for pints apiece.
[9549]     He wailed:
[9551]     --And we to be there, mavrone, and you to be unbeknownst sending us your
[9552]     conglomerations the way we to have our tongues out a yard long like the
[9553]     drouthy clerics do be fainting for a pussful.
[9555]     Stephen laughed.
[9557]     Quickly, warningfully Buck Mulligan bent down.
[9559]     --The tramper Synge is looking for you, he said, to murder you. He heard
[9560]     you pissed on his halldoor in Glasthule. He's out in pampooties to murder
[9561]     you.
[9563]     --Me! Stephen exclaimed. That was your contribution to literature.
[9565]     Buck Mulligan gleefully bent back, laughing to the dark eavesdropping
[9566]     ceiling.
[9568]     --Murder you! he laughed.
[9570]     Harsh gargoyle face that warred against me over our mess of hash of
[9571]     lights in rue Saint-Andre-des-Arts. In words of words for words,
[9572]     palabras. Oisin with Patrick. Faunman he met in Clamart woods,
[9573]     brandishing a winebottle. C'EST VENDREDI SAINT! Murthering Irish. His
[9574]     image, wandering, he met. I mine. I met a fool i'the forest.
[9576]     --Mr Lyster, an attendant said from the door ajar.
[9578]     -- ... in which everyone can find his own. So Mr Justice Madden in his
[9579]     DIARY OF MASTER WILLIAM SILENCE has found the hunting terms ... Yes? What
[9580]     is it?
[9582]     --There's a gentleman here, sir, the attendant said, coming forward and
[9583]     offering a card. From the FREEMAN. He wants to see the files of the
[9584]     KILKENNY PEOPLE for last year.
[9586]     --Certainly, certainly, certainly. Is the gentleman? ...
[9588]     He took the eager card, glanced, not saw, laid down unglanced, looked,
[9589]     asked, creaked, asked:
[9591]     --Is he? ... O, there!
[9593]     Brisk in a galliard he was off, out. In the daylit corridor he talked
[9594]     with voluble pains of zeal, in duty bound, most fair, most kind, most
[9595]     honest broadbrim.
[9597]     --This gentleman? FREEMAN'S JOURNAL? KILKENNY PEOPLE? To be sure. Good
[9598]     day, sir. KILKENNY ... We have certainly ...
[9600]     A patient silhouette waited, listening.
[9602]     --All the leading provincial ... NORTHERN WHIG, CORK EXAMINER,
[9603]     ENNISCORTHY GUARDIAN, 1903 ... Will you please? ... Evans, conduct this
[9604]     gentleman ... If you just follow the atten ... Or, please allow me ...
[9605]     This way ... Please, sir ...
[9607]     Voluble, dutiful, he led the way to all the provincial papers, a bowing
[9608]     dark figure following his hasty heels.
[9610]     The door closed.
[9612]     --The sheeny! Buck Mulligan cried.
[9614]     He jumped up and snatched the card.
[9616]     --What's his name? Ikey Moses? Bloom.
[9618]     He rattled on:
[9620]     --Jehovah, collector of prepuces, is no more. I found him over in the
[9621]     museum where I went to hail the foamborn Aphrodite. The Greek mouth that
[9622]     has never been twisted in prayer. Every day we must do homage to her.
[9625]     Suddenly he turned to Stephen:
[9627]     --He knows you. He knows your old fellow. O, I fear me, he is Greeker
[9628]     than the Greeks. His pale Galilean eyes were upon her mesial groove.
[9629]     Venus Kallipyge. O, the thunder of those loins! THE GOD PURSUING THE
[9630]     MAIDEN HID.
[9632]     --We want to hear more, John Eglinton decided with Mr Best's approval. We
[9633]     begin to be interested in Mrs S. Till now we had thought of her, if at
[9634]     all, as a patient Griselda, a Penelope stayathome.
[9636]     --Antisthenes, pupil of Gorgias, Stephen said, took the palm of beauty
[9637]     from Kyrios Menelaus' brooddam, Argive Helen, the wooden mare of Troy in
[9638]     whom a score of heroes slept, and handed it to poor Penelope. Twenty
[9639]     years he lived in London and, during part of that time, he drew a salary
[9640]     equal to that of the lord chancellor of Ireland. His life was rich. His
[9641]     art, more than the art of feudalism as Walt Whitman called it, is the art
[9642]     of surfeit. Hot herringpies, green mugs of sack, honeysauces, sugar of
[9643]     roses, marchpane, gooseberried pigeons, ringocandies. Sir Walter Raleigh,
[9644]     when they arrested him, had half a million francs on his back including a
[9645]     pair of fancy stays. The gombeenwoman Eliza Tudor had underlinen enough
[9646]     to vie with her of Sheba. Twenty years he dallied there between conjugial
[9647]     love and its chaste delights and scortatory love and its foul pleasures.
[9648]     You know Manningham's story of the burgher's wife who bade Dick Burbage
[9649]     to her bed after she had seen him in RICHARD III and how Shakespeare,
[9650]     overhearing, without more ado about nothing, took the cow by the horns
[9651]     and, when Burbage came knocking at the gate, answered from the capon's
[9653]     lakin, mistress Fitton, mount and cry O, and his dainty birdsnies, lady
[9654]     Penelope Rich, a clean quality woman is suited for a player, and the
[9655]     punks of the bankside, a penny a time.
[9658]     MINETTE? TU VEUX?
[9660]     --The height of fine society. And sir William Davenant of oxford's mother
[9661]     with her cup of canary for any cockcanary.
[9663]     Buck Mulligan, his pious eyes upturned, prayed:
[9665]     --Blessed Margaret Mary Anycock!
[9667]     --And Harry of six wives' daughter. And other lady friends from neighbour
[9668]     seats as Lawn Tennyson, gentleman poet, sings. But all those twenty years
[9669]     what do you suppose poor Penelope in Stratford was doing behind the
[9670]     diamond panes?
[9672]     Do and do. Thing done. In a rosery of Fetter lane of Gerard, herbalist,
[9673]     he walks, greyedauburn. An azured harebell like her veins. Lids of Juno's
[9674]     eyes, violets. He walks. One life is all. One body. Do. But do. Afar, in
[9675]     a reek of lust and squalor, hands are laid on whiteness.
[9677]     Buck Mulligan rapped John Eglinton's desk sharply.
[9679]     --Whom do you suspect? he challenged.
[9681]     --Say that he is the spurned lover in the sonnets. Once spurned twice
[9682]     spurned. But the court wanton spurned him for a lord, his dearmylove.
[9684]     Love that dare not speak its name.
[9686]     --As an Englishman, you mean, John sturdy Eglinton put in, he loved a
[9687]     lord.
[9689]     Old wall where sudden lizards flash. At Charenton I watched them.
[9691]     --It seems so, Stephen said, when he wants to do for him, and for all
[9692]     other and singular uneared wombs, the holy office an ostler does for the
[9693]     stallion. Maybe, like Socrates, he had a midwife to mother as he had a
[9694]     shrew to wife. But she, the giglot wanton, did not break a bedvow. Two
[9695]     deeds are rank in that ghost's mind: a broken vow and the dullbrained
[9696]     yokel on whom her favour has declined, deceased husband's brother. Sweet
[9697]     Ann, I take it, was hot in the blood. Once a wooer, twice a wooer.
[9699]     Stephen turned boldly in his chair.
[9701]     --The burden of proof is with you not with me, he said frowning. If you
[9702]     deny that in the fifth scene of HAMLET he has branded her with infamy
[9703]     tell me why there is no mention of her during the thirtyfour years
[9704]     between the day she married him and the day she buried him. All those
[9705]     women saw their men down and under: Mary, her goodman John, Ann, her poor
[9706]     dear Willun, when he went and died on her, raging that he was the first
[9707]     to go, Joan, her four brothers, Judith, her husband and all her sons,
[9708]     Susan, her husband too, while Susan's daughter, Elizabeth, to use
[9709]     granddaddy's words, wed her second, having killed her first.
[9711]     O, yes, mention there is. In the years when he was living richly in royal
[9712]     London to pay a debt she had to borrow forty shillings from her father's
[9713]     shepherd. Explain you then. Explain the swansong too wherein he has
[9714]     commended her to posterity.
[9716]     He faced their silence.
[9718]     To whom thus Eglinton:
[9721]             You mean the will.
[9722]         But that has been explained, I believe, by jurists.
[9723]         She was entitled to her widow's dower
[9724]         At common law. His legal knowledge was great
[9725]         Our judges tell us.
[9726]             Him Satan fleers,
[9727]         Mocker:
[9728]             And therefore he left out her name
[9729]         From the first draft but he did not leave out
[9730]         The presents for his granddaughter, for his daughters,
[9731]         For his sister, for his old cronies in Stratford
[9732]         And in London. And therefore when he was urged,
[9733]         As I believe, to name her
[9734]         He left her his
[9735]         Secondbest
[9736]         Bed.
[9737]                     PUNKT.
[9738]         Leftherhis
[9739]         Secondbest
[9740]         Leftherhis
[9741]         Bestabed
[9742]         Secabest
[9743]         Leftabed.
[9746]     Woa!
[9749]     INTER MULTOS.
[9751]     --Saint Thomas, Stephen began ...
[9753]     --ORA PRO NOBIS, Monk Mulligan groaned, sinking to a chair.
[9755]     There he keened a wailing rune.
[9757]     --POGUE MAHONE! ACUSHLA MACHREE! It's destroyed we are from this day!
[9758]     It's destroyed we are surely!
[9760]     All smiled their smiles.
[9762]     --Saint Thomas, Stephen smiling said, whose gorbellied works I enjoy
[9763]     reading in the original, writing of incest from a standpoint different
[9764]     from that of the new Viennese school Mr Magee spoke of, likens it in his
[9765]     wise and curious way to an avarice of the emotions. He means that the
[9766]     love so given to one near in blood is covetously withheld from some
[9767]     stranger who, it may be, hungers for it. Jews, whom christians tax with
[9768]     avarice, are of all races the most given to intermarriage. Accusations
[9769]     are made in anger. The christian laws which built up the hoards of the
[9770]     jews (for whom, as for the lollards, storm was shelter) bound their
[9771]     affections too with hoops of steel. Whether these be sins or virtues old
[9772]     Nobodaddy will tell us at doomsday leet. But a man who holds so tightly
[9773]     to what he calls his rights over what he calls his debts will hold
[9774]     tightly also to what he calls his rights over her whom he calls his wife.
[9775]     No sir smile neighbour shall covet his ox or his wife or his manservant
[9776]     or his maidservant or his jackass.
[9778]     --Or his jennyass, Buck Mulligan antiphoned.
[9780]     --Gentle Will is being roughly handled, gentle Mr Best said gently.
[9782]     --Which will? gagged sweetly Buck Mulligan. We are getting mixed.
[9784]     --The will to live, John Eglinton philosophised, for poor Ann, Will's
[9785]     widow, is the will to die.
[9787]     --REQUIESCAT! Stephen prayed.
[9790]         WHAT OF ALL THE WILL TO DO?
[9791]         IT HAS VANISHED LONG AGO ...
[9794]     --She lies laid out in stark stiffness in that secondbest bed, the mobled
[9795]     queen, even though you prove that a bed in those days was as rare as a
[9796]     motorcar is now and that its carvings were the wonder of seven parishes.
[9797]     In old age she takes up with gospellers (one stayed with her at New Place
[9798]     and drank a quart of sack the town council paid for but in which bed he
[9799]     slept it skills not to ask) and heard she had a soul. She read or had
[9800]     read to her his chapbooks preferring them to the MERRY WIVES and, loosing
[9801]     her nightly waters on the jordan, she thought over HOOKS AND EYES FOR
[9803]     DEVOUT SOULS SNEEZE. Venus has twisted her lips in prayer. Agenbite of
[9804]     inwit: remorse of conscience. It is an age of exhausted whoredom groping
[9805]     for its god.
[9807]     --History shows that to be true, INQUIT EGLINTONUS CHRONOLOLOGOS. The
[9808]     ages succeed one another. But we have it on high authority that a man's
[9809]     worst enemies shall be those of his own house and family. I feel that
[9810]     Russell is right. What do we care for his wife or father? I should say
[9811]     that only family poets have family lives. Falstaff was not a family man.
[9812]     I feel that the fat knight is his supreme creation.
[9814]     Lean, he lay back. Shy, deny thy kindred, the unco guid. Shy, supping
[9815]     with the godless, he sneaks the cup. A sire in Ultonian Antrim bade it
[9816]     him. Visits him here on quarter days. Mr Magee, sir, there's a gentleman
[9817]     to see you. Me? Says he's your father, sir. Give me my Wordsworth. Enter
[9818]     Magee Mor Matthew, a rugged rough rugheaded kern, in strossers with a
[9819]     buttoned codpiece, his nether stocks bemired with clauber of ten forests,
[9820]     a wand of wilding in his hand.
[9822]     Your own? He knows your old fellow. The widower.
[9824]     Hurrying to her squalid deathlair from gay Paris on the quayside I
[9825]     touched his hand. The voice, new warmth, speaking. Dr Bob Kenny is
[9826]     attending her. The eyes that wish me well. But do not know me.
[9828]     --A father, Stephen said, battling against hopelessness, is a necessary
[9829]     evil. He wrote the play in the months that followed his father's death.
[9830]     If you hold that he, a greying man with two marriageable daughters, with
[9831]     thirtyfive years of life, NEL MEZZO DEL CAMMIN DI NOSTRA VITA, with fifty
[9832]     of experience, is the beardless undergraduate from Wittenberg then you
[9833]     must hold that his seventyyear old mother is the lustful queen. No. The
[9834]     corpse of John Shakespeare does not walk the night. From hour to hour it
[9835]     rots and rots. He rests, disarmed of fatherhood, having devised that
[9836]     mystical estate upon his son. Boccaccio's Calandrino was the first and
[9837]     last man who felt himself with child. Fatherhood, in the sense of
[9838]     conscious begetting, is unknown to man. It is a mystical estate, an
[9839]     apostolic succession, from only begetter to only begotten. On that
[9840]     mystery and not on the madonna which the cunning Italian intellect flung
[9841]     to the mob of Europe the church is founded and founded irremovably
[9842]     because founded, like the world, macro and microcosm, upon the void. Upon
[9843]     incertitude, upon unlikelihood. AMOR MATRIS, subjective and objective
[9844]     genitive, may be the only true thing in life. Paternity may be a legal
[9845]     fiction. Who is the father of any son that any son should love him or he
[9846]     any son?
[9848]     What the hell are you driving at?
[9850]     I know. Shut up. Blast you. I have reasons.
[9854]     Are you condemned to do this?
[9856]     --They are sundered by a bodily shame so steadfast that the criminal
[9857]     annals of the world, stained with all other incests and bestialities,
[9858]     hardly record its breach. Sons with mothers, sires with daughters, lesbic
[9859]     sisters, loves that dare not speak their name, nephews with grandmothers,
[9860]     jailbirds with keyholes, queens with prize bulls. The son unborn mars
[9861]     beauty: born, he brings pain, divides affection, increases care. He is a
[9862]     new male: his growth is his father's decline, his youth his father's
[9863]     envy, his friend his father's enemy.
[9865]     In rue Monsieur-le-Prince I thought it.
[9867]     --What links them in nature? An instant of blind rut.
[9869]     Am I a father? If I were?
[9871]     Shrunken uncertain hand.
[9873]     --Sabellius, the African, subtlest heresiarch of all the beasts of the
[9874]     field, held that the Father was Himself His Own Son. The bulldog of
[9875]     Aquin, with whom no word shall be impossible, refutes him. Well: if the
[9876]     father who has not a son be not a father can the son who has not a father
[9877]     be a son? When Rutlandbaconsouthamptonshakespeare or another poet of the
[9878]     same name in the comedy of errors wrote HAMLET he was not the father of
[9879]     his own son merely but, being no more a son, he was and felt himself the
[9880]     father of all his race, the father of his own grandfather, the father of
[9881]     his unborn grandson who, by the same token, never was born, for nature,
[9882]     as Mr Magee understands her, abhors perfection.
[9884]     Eglintoneyes, quick with pleasure, looked up shybrightly. Gladly
[9885]     glancing, a merry puritan, through the twisted eglantine.
[9887]     Flatter. Rarely. But flatter.
[9889]     --Himself his own father, Sonmulligan told himself. Wait. I am big with
[9890]     child. I have an unborn child in my brain. Pallas Athena! A play! The
[9891]     play's the thing! Let me parturiate!
[9893]     He clasped his paunchbrow with both birthaiding hands.
[9895]     --As for his family, Stephen said, his mother's name lives in the forest
[9896]     of Arden. Her death brought from him the scene with Volumnia in
[9897]     CORIOLANUS. His boyson's death is the deathscene of young Arthur in KING
[9898]     JOHN. Hamlet, the black prince, is Hamnet Shakespeare. Who the girls in
[9899]     THE TEMPEST, in PERICLES, in WINTER'S TALE are we know. Who Cleopatra,
[9900]     fleshpot of Egypt, and Cressid and Venus are we may guess. But there is
[9901]     another member of his family who is recorded.
[9903]     --The plot thickens, John Eglinton said.
[9905]     The quaker librarian, quaking, tiptoed in, quake, his mask, quake, with
[9906]     haste, quake, quack.
[9908]     Door closed. Cell. Day.
[9910]     They list. Three. They.
[9912]     I you he they.
[9914]     Come, mess.
[9916]     STEPHEN: He had three brothers, Gilbert, Edmund, Richard. Gilbert in his
[9917]     old age told some cavaliers he got a pass for nowt from Maister Gatherer
[9918]     one time mass he did and he seen his brud Maister Wull the playwriter up
[9919]     in Lunnon in a wrastling play wud a man on's back. The playhouse sausage
[9920]     filled Gilbert's soul. He is nowhere: but an Edmund and a Richard are
[9921]     recorded in the works of sweet William.
[9923]     MAGEEGLINJOHN: Names! What's in a name?
[9925]     BEST: That is my name, Richard, don't you know. I hope you are going to
[9926]     say a good word for Richard, don't you know, for my sake.
[9928]                     (Laughter)
[9932]              Then outspoke medical Dick
[9933]              To his comrade medical Davy ...
[9935]     STEPHEN: In his trinity of black Wills, the villain shakebags, Iago,
[9936]     Richard Crookback, Edmund in KING LEAR, two bear the wicked uncles'
[9937]     names. Nay, that last play was written or being written while his brother
[9938]     Edmund lay dying in Southwark.
[9940]     BEST: I hope Edmund is going to catch it. I don't want Richard, my
[9941]     name ...
[9943]                     (Laughter)
[9945]     QUAKERLYSTER: (A TEMPO) But he that filches from me my good name ...
[9947]     STEPHEN: (STRINGENDO) He has hidden his own name, a fair name, William,
[9948]     in the plays, a super here, a clown there, as a painter of old Italy set
[9949]     his face in a dark corner of his canvas. He has revealed it in the
[9950]     sonnets where there is Will in overplus. Like John o'Gaunt his name is
[9951]     dear to him, as dear as the coat and crest he toadied for, on a bend
[9952]     sable a spear or steeled argent, honorificabilitudinitatibus, dearer than
[9953]     his glory of greatest shakescene in the country. What's in a name? That
[9954]     is what we ask ourselves in childhood when we write the name that we are
[9955]     told is ours. A star, a daystar, a firedrake, rose at his birth. It shone
[9956]     by day in the heavens alone, brighter than Venus in the night, and by
[9957]     night it shone over delta in Cassiopeia, the recumbent constellation
[9958]     which is the signature of his initial among the stars. His eyes watched
[9959]     it, lowlying on the horizon, eastward of the bear, as he walked by the
[9960]     slumberous summer fields at midnight returning from Shottery and from her
[9961]     arms.
[9964]     Both satisfied. I too.
[9966]     Don't tell them he was nine years old when it was quenched.
[9968]     And from her arms.
[9970]     Wait to be wooed and won. Ay, meacock. Who will woo you?
[9972]     Read the skies. AUTONTIMORUMENOS. BOUS STEPHANOUMENOS. Where's your
[9973]     configuration? Stephen, Stephen, cut the bread even. S. D: SUA DONNA.
[9976]     --What is that, Mr Dedalus? the quaker librarian asked. Was it a
[9977]     celestial phenomenon?
[9979]     --A star by night, Stephen said. A pillar of the cloud by day.
[9981]     What more's to speak?
[9983]     Stephen looked on his hat, his stick, his boots.
[9985]     STEPHANOS, my crown. My sword. His boots are spoiling the shape of
[9986]     my feet. Buy a pair. Holes in my socks. Handkerchief too.
[9988]     --You make good use of the name, John Eglinton allowed. Your own name
[9989]     is strange enough. I suppose it explains your fantastical humour.
[9991]     Me, Magee and Mulligan.
[9993]     Fabulous artificer. The hawklike man. You flew. Whereto?
[9994]     Newhaven-Dieppe, steerage passenger. Paris and back. Lapwing. Icarus.
[9995]     PATER, AIT. Seabedabbled, fallen, weltering. Lapwing you are. Lapwing be.
[9997]     Mr Best eagerquietly lifted his book to say:
[9999]     --That's very interesting because that brother motive, don't you know, we
[10000]    find also in the old Irish myths. Just what you say. The three brothers
[10001]    Shakespeare. In Grimm too, don't you know, the fairytales. The third
[10002]    brother that always marries the sleeping beauty and wins the best prize.
[10004]    Best of Best brothers. Good, better, best.
[10006]    The quaker librarian springhalted near.
[10008]    --I should like to know, he said, which brother you ... I understand you
[10009]    to suggest there was misconduct with one of the brothers ... But
[10010]    perhaps I am anticipating?
[10012]    He caught himself in the act: looked at all: refrained.
[10014]    An attendant from the doorway called:
[10016]    --Mr Lyster! Father Dineen wants ...
[10018]    --O, Father Dineen! Directly.
[10020]    Swiftly rectly creaking rectly rectly he was rectly gone.
[10022]    John Eglinton touched the foil.
[10024]    --Come, he said. Let us hear what you have to say of Richard and
[10025]    Edmund. You kept them for the last, didn't you?
[10027]    --In asking you to remember those two noble kinsmen nuncle Richie and
[10028]    nuncle Edmund, Stephen answered, I feel I am asking too much perhaps. A
[10029]    brother is as easily forgotten as an umbrella.
[10031]    Lapwing.
[10033]    Where is your brother? Apothecaries' hall. My whetstone. Him, then
[10034]    Cranly, Mulligan: now these. Speech, speech. But act. Act speech. They
[10035]    mock to try you. Act. Be acted on.
[10037]    Lapwing.
[10039]    I am tired of my voice, the voice of Esau. My kingdom for a drink.
[10041]    On.
[10043]    --You will say those names were already in the chronicles from which he
[10044]    took the stuff of his plays. Why did he take them rather than others?
[10045]    Richard, a whoreson crookback, misbegotten, makes love to a widowed
[10046]    Ann (what's in a name?), woos and wins her, a whoreson merry widow.
[10047]    Richard the conqueror, third brother, came after William the conquered.
[10048]    The other four acts of that play hang limply from that first. Of all his
[10049]    kings Richard is the only king unshielded by Shakespeare's reverence,
[10050]    the angel of the world. Why is the underplot of KING LEAR in which Edmund
[10051]    figures lifted out of Sidney's ARCADIA and spatchcocked on to a Celtic
[10052]    legend older than history?
[10054]    --That was Will's way, John Eglinton defended. We should not now
[10055]    combine a Norse saga with an excerpt from a novel by George Meredith.
[10056]    QUE VOULEZ-VOUS? Moore would say. He puts Bohemia on the seacoast and
[10057]    makes Ulysses quote Aristotle.
[10059]    --Why? Stephen answered himself. Because the theme of the false or the
[10060]    usurping or the adulterous brother or all three in one is to Shakespeare,
[10061]    what the poor are not, always with him. The note of banishment,
[10062]    banishment from the heart, banishment from home, sounds uninterruptedly
[10063]    from THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA onward till Prospero breaks his staff,
[10064]    buries it certain fathoms in the earth and drowns his book. It doubles
[10065]    itself in the middle of his life, reflects itself in another, repeats
[10066]    itself, protasis, epitasis, catastasis, catastrophe. It repeats
[10067]    itself again when he is near the grave, when his married daughter
[10068]    Susan, chip of the old block, is accused of adultery. But it was
[10069]    the original sin that darkened his understanding, weakened his
[10070]    will and left in him a strong inclination to evil. The words are
[10071]    those of my lords bishops of Maynooth. An original sin and, like original
[10072]    sin, committed by another in whose sin he too has sinned. It is between
[10073]    the lines of his last written words, it is petrified on his tombstone
[10074]    under which her four bones are not to be laid. Age has not withered it.
[10075]    Beauty and peace have not done it away. It is in infinite variety
[10076]    everywhere in the world he has created, in MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, twice
[10078]    in all the other plays which I have not read.
[10080]    He laughed to free his mind from his mind's bondage.
[10082]    Judge Eglinton summed up.
[10084]    --The truth is midway, he affirmed. He is the ghost and the prince. He is
[10085]    all in all.
[10087]    --He is, Stephen said. The boy of act one is the mature man of act five.
[10088]    All in all. In CYMBELINE, in OTHELLO he is bawd and cuckold. He acts and
[10089]    is acted on. Lover of an ideal or a perversion, like Jose he kills the
[10090]    real Carmen. His unremitting intellect is the hornmad Iago ceaselessly
[10091]    willing that the moor in him shall suffer.
[10093]    --Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuck Mulligan clucked lewdly. O word of fear!
[10095]    Dark dome received, reverbed.
[10097]    --And what a character is Iago! undaunted John Eglinton exclaimed.
[10098]    When all is said Dumas FILS (or is it Dumas PERE?) is right. After God
[10099]    Shakespeare has created most.
[10101]    --Man delights him not nor woman neither, Stephen said. He returns after
[10102]    a life of absence to that spot of earth where he was born, where he has
[10103]    always been, man and boy, a silent witness and there, his journey of life
[10104]    ended, he plants his mulberrytree in the earth. Then dies. The motion is
[10105]    ended. Gravediggers bury Hamlet PERE and Hamlet FILS. A king and a
[10106]    prince at last in death, with incidental music. And, what though murdered
[10107]    and betrayed, bewept by all frail tender hearts for, Dane or Dubliner,
[10108]    sorrow for the dead is the only husband from whom they refuse to be
[10109]    divorced. If you like the epilogue look long on it: prosperous Prospero,
[10110]    the good man rewarded, Lizzie, grandpa's lump of love, and nuncle Richie,
[10111]    the bad man taken off by poetic justice to the place where the bad niggers
[10112]    go. Strong curtain. He found in the world without as actual what was in his
[10113]    world within as possible. Maeterlinck says: IF SOCRATES LEAVE HIS HOUSE
[10115]    TONIGHT IT IS TO JUDAS HIS STEPS WILL TEND. Every life is many days,
[10116]    day after day. We walk through ourselves, meeting robbers, ghosts, giants,
[10117]    old men, young men, wives, widows, brothers-in-love, but always meeting
[10118]    ourselves. The playwright who wrote the folio of this world and wrote it
[10119]    badly (He gave us light first and the sun two days later), the lord of
[10120]    things as they are whom the most Roman of catholics call DIO BOIA,
[10121]    hangman god, is doubtless all in all in all of us, ostler and butcher,
[10122]    and would be bawd and cuckold too but that in the economy of heaven,
[10123]    foretold by Hamlet, there are no more marriages, glorified man, an
[10124]    androgynous angel, being a wife unto himself.
[10126]    --EUREKA! Buck Mulligan cried. EUREKA!
[10128]    Suddenly happied he jumped up and reached in a stride John Eglinton's
[10129]    desk.
[10131]    --May I? he said. The Lord has spoken to Malachi.
[10133]    He began to scribble on a slip of paper.
[10135]    Take some slips from the counter going out.
[10137]    --Those who are married, Mr Best, douce herald, said, all save one, shall
[10138]    live. The rest shall keep as they are.
[10140]    He laughed, unmarried, at Eglinton Johannes, of arts a bachelor.
[10142]    Unwed, unfancied, ware of wiles, they fingerponder nightly each his
[10143]    variorum edition of THE TAMING OF THE SHREW.
[10145]    --You are a delusion, said roundly John Eglinton to Stephen. You have
[10146]    brought us all this way to show us a French triangle. Do you believe your
[10147]    own theory?
[10149]    --No, Stephen said promptly.
[10151]    --Are you going to write it? Mr Best asked. You ought to make it a
[10152]    dialogue, don't you know, like the Platonic dialogues Wilde wrote.
[10154]    John Eclecticon doubly smiled.
[10156]    --Well, in that case, he said, I don't see why you should expect payment
[10157]    for it since you don't believe it yourself. Dowden believes there is some
[10158]    mystery in HAMLET but will say no more. Herr Bleibtreu, the man Piper met
[10159]    in Berlin, who is working up that Rutland theory, believes that the secret
[10160]    is hidden in the Stratford monument. He is going to visit the present
[10161]    duke, Piper says, and prove to him that his ancestor wrote the plays.
[10162]    It will come as a surprise to his grace. But he believes his theory.
[10164]    I believe, O Lord, help my unbelief. That is, help me to believe or help
[10165]    me to unbelieve? Who helps to believe? EGOMEN. Who to unbelieve? Other
[10166]    chap.
[10168]    --You are the only contributor to DANA who asks for pieces of silver. Then
[10169]    I don't know about the next number. Fred Ryan wants space for an article
[10170]    on economics.
[10172]    Fraidrine. Two pieces of silver he lent me. Tide you over. Economics.
[10174]    --For a guinea, Stephen said, you can publish this interview.
[10176]    Buck Mulligan stood up from his laughing scribbling, laughing: and
[10177]    then gravely said, honeying malice:
[10179]    --I called upon the bard Kinch at his summer residence in upper
[10180]    Mecklenburgh street and found him deep in the study of the SUMMA CONTRA
[10181]    GENTILES in the company of two gonorrheal ladies, Fresh Nelly and Rosalie,
[10182]    the coalquay whore.
[10184]    He broke away.
[10186]    --Come, Kinch. Come, wandering Aengus of the birds.
[10188]    Come, Kinch. You have eaten all we left. Ay. I will serve you your orts
[10189]    and offals.
[10191]    Stephen rose.
[10193]    Life is many days. This will end.
[10195]    --We shall see you tonight, John Eglinton said. NOTRE AMI Moore says
[10196]    Malachi Mulligan must be there.
[10198]    Buck Mulligan flaunted his slip and panama.
[10200]    --Monsieur Moore, he said, lecturer on French letters to the youth of
[10201]    Ireland. I'll be there. Come, Kinch, the bards must drink. Can you walk
[10202]    straight?
[10204]    Laughing, he ...
[10206]    Swill till eleven. Irish nights entertainment.
[10208]    Lubber ...
[10210]    Stephen followed a lubber ...
[10212]    One day in the national library we had a discussion. Shakes. After.
[10213]    His lub back: I followed. I gall his kibe.
[10215]    Stephen, greeting, then all amort, followed a lubber jester, a
[10216]    wellkempt head, newbarbered, out of the vaulted cell into a shattering
[10217]    daylight of no thought.
[10219]    What have I learned? Of them? Of me?
[10221]    Walk like Haines now.
[10223]    The constant readers' room. In the readers' book Cashel Boyle
[10224]    O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell parafes his polysyllables. Item: was
[10225]    Hamlet mad? The quaker's pate godlily with a priesteen in booktalk.
[10227]    --O please do, sir ... I shall be most pleased ...
[10229]    Amused Buck Mulligan mused in pleasant murmur with himself, selfnodding:
[10231]    --A pleased bottom.
[10233]    The turnstile.
[10235]    Is that? ... Blueribboned hat ... Idly writing ... What? Looked? ...
[10237]    The curving balustrade: smoothsliding Mincius.
[10239]    Puck Mulligan, panamahelmeted, went step by step, iambing, trolling:
[10242]        JOHN EGLINTON, MY JO, JOHN,
[10243]        WHY WON'T YOU WED A WIFE?
[10246]    He spluttered to the air:
[10248]    --O, the chinless Chinaman! Chin Chon Eg Lin Ton. We went over to their
[10249]    playbox, Haines and I, the plumbers' hall. Our players are creating a new
[10250]    art for Europe like the Greeks or M. Maeterlinck. Abbey Theatre! I smell
[10251]    the pubic sweat of monks.
[10253]    He spat blank.
[10255]    Forgot: any more than he forgot the whipping lousy Lucy gave him.
[10256]    And left the FEMME DE TRENTE ANS. And why no other children born? And his
[10257]    first child a girl?
[10259]    Afterwit. Go back.
[10261]    The dour recluse still there (he has his cake) and the douce youngling,
[10262]    minion of pleasure, Phedo's toyable fair hair.
[10264]    Eh ... I just eh ... wanted ... I forgot ... he ...
[10266]    --Longworth and M'Curdy Atkinson were there ...
[10268]    Puck Mulligan footed featly, trilling:
[10273]        ON F. M'CURDY ATKINSON,
[10281]    Jest on. Know thyself.
[10283]    Halted, below me, a quizzer looks at me. I halt.
[10285]    --Mournful mummer, Buck Mulligan moaned. Synge has left off wearing
[10286]    black to be like nature. Only crows, priests and English coal are black.
[10288]    A laugh tripped over his lips.
[10290]    --Longworth is awfully sick, he said, after what you wrote about that old
[10291]    hake Gregory. O you inquisitional drunken jewjesuit! She gets you a job on
[10292]    the paper and then you go and slate her drivel to Jaysus. Couldn't you do
[10293]    the Yeats touch?
[10295]    He went on and down, mopping, chanting with waving graceful arms:
[10297]    --The most beautiful book that has come out of our country in my time.
[10298]    One thinks of Homer.
[10300]    He stopped at the stairfoot.
[10302]    --I have conceived a play for the mummers, he said solemnly.
[10304]    The pillared Moorish hall, shadows entwined. Gone the nine men's
[10305]    morrice with caps of indices.
[10307]    In sweetly varying voices Buck Mulligan read his tablet:
[10310]            EVERYMAN HIS OWN WIFE
[10311]                    OR
[10312]            A HONEYMOON IN THE HAND
[10314]                    BY
[10315]            BALLOCKY MULLIGAN
[10318]    He turned a happy patch's smirk to Stephen, saying:
[10320]    --The disguise, I fear, is thin. But listen.
[10322]    He read, MARCATO:
[10324]    --Characters:
[10327]        TODY TOSTOFF (a ruined Pole)
[10328]        CRAB (a bushranger)
[10329]        MEDICAL DICK )
[10330]            and ) (two birds with one stone)
[10331]        MEDICAL DAVY )
[10332]        MOTHER GROGAN (a watercarrier)
[10333]        FRESH NELLY
[10334]            and
[10335]        ROSALIE (the coalquay whore).
[10338]    He laughed, lolling a to and fro head, walking on, followed by Stephen:
[10339]    and mirthfully he told the shadows, souls of men:
[10341]    --O, the night in the Camden hall when the daughters of Erin had to lift
[10342]    their skirts to step over you as you lay in your mulberrycoloured,
[10343]    multicoloured, multitudinous vomit!
[10345]    --The most innocent son of Erin, Stephen said, for whom they ever lifted
[10346]    them.
[10348]    About to pass through the doorway, feeling one behind, he stood aside.
[10350]    Part. The moment is now. Where then? If Socrates leave his house
[10351]    today, if Judas go forth tonight. Why? That lies in space which I in time
[10352]    must come to, ineluctably.
[10354]    My will: his will that fronts me. Seas between.
[10356]    A man passed out between them, bowing, greeting.
[10358]    --Good day again, Buck Mulligan said.
[10360]    The portico.
[10362]    Here I watched the birds for augury. Aengus of the birds. They go,
[10363]    they come. Last night I flew. Easily flew. Men wondered. Street of harlots
[10364]    after. A creamfruit melon he held to me. In. You will see.
[10366]    --The wandering jew, Buck Mulligan whispered with clown's awe. Did you
[10367]    see his eye? He looked upon you to lust after you. I fear thee, ancient
[10368]    mariner. O, Kinch, thou art in peril. Get thee a breechpad.
[10370]    Manner of Oxenford.
[10372]    Day. Wheelbarrow sun over arch of bridge.
[10374]    A dark back went before them, step of a pard, down, out by the
[10375]    gateway, under portcullis barbs.
[10377]    They followed.
[10379]    Offend me still. Speak on.
[10381]    Kind air defined the coigns of houses in Kildare street. No birds. Frail
[10382]    from the housetops two plumes of smoke ascended, pluming, and in a flaw
[10383]    of softness softly were blown.
[10385]    Cease to strive. Peace of the druid priests of Cymbeline: hierophantic:
[10386]    from wide earth an altar.
[10389]        LAUD WE THE GODS
[10391]        FROM OUR BLESS'D ALTARS.