ULYSSES
Protodrafts
First drafts of 9+2 sections, Spring 1920, draft level 1
MS Buffalo V.A.11, V.A.12, NLI.11A, NLI.11B Draft details
{Prologue: MS V.A.11: U84 14.01-70}
{ms, 1}
By no pomp of pride or mark of mightiness is the wellbeing of a people more surely proven than by |1its tribute of1| solicitude for its own continuance nor can we ever nor can we justly nor can we with justice esteem a nation, which sets small store by and where this quality either is lacking or is set small store by we cannot with justice esteem a nation so little provident, however wide |1be the dominion her realm1|, be |1it she1| ruled never so wisely. For what boots it to gather and to garner if none or weakling be to for none, or weaklings shall come after? Or what is that wisdom, to extol his meat above the man himself, the dead which |1sustains serves for1| life above the living, which death should serve? Plainly |1nought and1| no. If care for progress be absent in vain |1was the house raised and the hearthstone laid to cheer were the rooftree raised|a, to shelter ita| or threshold laid1|.
Yet what boon of all can |1equal vye with1| the bounty of increase. Where it is found the land teems |1with produce1|, where not, is bare: or the barren heath and hillside, this but that the abundant wheatfield of heavy awns, the fertile loam |1of fallows1|, the herds numbered and blessed. So was it |1said |apromised commandeda|1| to |1Abraham the patriarch to1| increase and multiply and it was promised |1him1| his seed should not fail but be numerous: Sacred then and even the pagans saluted on meeting amid the press a matron with child for, if command and promise from |1above on high1| warrant and if the wise of mankind at all times and everywhere establish it, |1for (and1| even the rudest know this |1awe, awe),1| |1sacred revered1| |1above all else should be motherhood motherhood should be above all else1| and its abode a temple |1inviolable inviolate1|.
|1This
Such1|
was,
|1by
concurrent witness, witness the writers of
Story,1| the practice
in our land from the earliest times where leechcraft was ever held high in
honour. Not to The
sick, the wayfarer, the stricken were the objects of wise care. Not to speak of
their hostels, their sweating chambers
|1&
leperyards |aand
plaguegravesa|1|,
their houses of sorrow, their greatest leeches: as the
|1O'Shiels
Shiels
|athan whom none was
wisera|1|, the
O'Lees and the O'Hickeys with many others, record in their books the
lore of herbs and
|1maladies
with their1| cures as
we may read even now
with much instruction how the trembling hand was
|1cured
made whole1| and how the withering
{ms, 2}
the boyconnell too and the wave or loose flux. Now surely in such and so
varied learning we shall not miss a tender care for birth. And in fact
|1it
is so so it
was1|. Before born the
babe
|1was
blessed had
bliss1|. Within the
womb he won worship.
|1Food
and couch A couch and
food1| were
|1ready
set1|
for her than should bear him and
|1cleanness
clean
clothes1| and the
service of midwives and what drugs were needed or surgical tools in the high
bright wellbuilt fair home of mothers
when|1,
being
|athena|
far gone,1| she
|1came
there drew
thither1| to lie in,
|1far
gone,1| her
|1time
near term
|aaccomplished
comea|1|.
Nor has this |1usage failed in wont stopped short of1| our time. The |1Coombe hospital, the Rotunda hospitals of the Coombe, Rotunda of the National Maternity Hospitals1|, |1are |arise standa|1| among us, where day |1after following1| day |1is fostered1| the neverfailing fount of life |1is fostered1| |1and so so that1| the tale of creatures |1does shall1| not |1ever1| lessen, for nature renews it |1ever from of1| her bounty which gives giving, if but to her one gift be given, |1her an1| hundredfold yield. In this greater than we and in her strength greater for the earth will suffer that chasms to rend her |1loins1| and the sea to be sundered to her depths and yet show no worse, so strong |1is nature in them in them is nature1|, while her chief child faints under a light load, wailing comes to birth and is |1borne born1| with |1as a child of bondchild into1| woe. But woe |1to unto1| them that know not |1this such1| woe. Sweet woe whereof joy comes. |1If hallowed was |aHallowed is If halloweda|1| the ground where |1our dead are laid lie our dead1| thrice hallowed |1should that house be be that house1| where life |1comes burgeons1| to new life, love |1to fruition |aflowers |bhas flower and fruit bears fruit and flowerb|a|1|.
{Section I: V.A.11: U84 14.71-122}
{ms, 2}
|1Levin
lightened, sudden from
south.1| Bloom, not
unmindful, lifted the
k
|1pressed
the bell pushed the nightbell
|abutton
knoba|1|.
|1That
scene was known to him To him were known those
scenes1|, who had seen
many
|1for
in Holles street inasmuch as in that street
Holles1| where the
doorbell rang
|1he
had dwelt in rough years with one dear in past
days with
|aone
maid dear
his liefest
lovea| he had
dwelt1|. Nine years
|1|acircling
wheelinga|1| since
then were flown. Gently he pressed, knowing the pangs of birth, fearful to bring
fear. Pity led him and led on with lust to wander though awe withheld.
{ms, 3}
Of that house |1Andrew A.1| Horne is |1lord master1|. He goes |1And there There1| are the white spotless couches set, |1seventy in all (three score and ten)1|, with |1pillars posts1| of shining gold to give rest to his seventy charges, |1the those1| pregnant mothers. |1Betimes1| He goes forth |1betimes1| on his round bringing to life, healing, with hands of comfort and he rejoices to look upon his home where those wombs await him. |1Their eyes turn towards him |aAll their eyes turn towards him ever towards him their eyes turna|1| for |1they long1| to be delivered and |1more1| to bring forth |1they long1|.
|1Two guardians are there Watchers 2 there are1|, nurse Callan |1and nurse with Hester1| Quigley. They to see that nothing |1lacks and lack, |awhitevested,a|1| |1tending hour by hour hour by hour tending1|, |1whiterobed, |awhitevesteda|1|, |1two1| soothing sisters, they watch by turns. The old they still, sustain the young, in twelve months thrice five hundred they. Vigilant |1ever for a at every1| sign |1they move softly softly they move1|.
Softly the |1halldoor opened |aheavya| portal swung open1| of the house and to Bloom greeting whiterobed nurse Callan |1answered with fair words with fair words answered1|, |1and She1| bade him |1deprecant1| in. |1To her he was known. |aTo her of old time To her from old timea| unread was known.1| |1She blank1| and he precedent, |1stepped1| soft |1twice1| on the hall mat |1twice stepped1|. She asked his news which softly he |1told gave1|, hat holding in |1humble1| hand, |1to not molest loth to irk1|, in Horne's house. Much in nine years had come to pass. Once her in |1a |aDublin's Dublina|1| throng |1he had met met |ahada| he1| and |1when she bowed to her bowing1| had not |1quick1| doffed. Now pardon |1of her1| he craved, for |1unread good1| pleas |1she kindly gave allowed by her1| that that to him seen sudden face hers so young then |1had1| seemed. Light her eyes |1lit swiftkindled1|. Bloom of blushes |1unread brought1| Bloom's |1words unread word1|.
|1As1|
Then
|1when1|
her eyes watchful perceived his
|1dark
mien solititous she asked if feared garb dark
adread feared
she1| grief for him.
Glad was she
|1now1|
if before afraid.
|1He
thereat Whereat he
courteous1| asked
|1how
Doctor O'Hare died Doctor O'Hare
some tidings sent1|.
Earnest mien then her face took which
|1late1|
awhile
|1ere1|
had
|1roseate
shone shone roseate1|.
{ms, 4}
With veiled eyes
|1looking1|
low she said poor
Doctor O'Hare was in heaven, she
|1said
told1|.
|1Bloom
was sorry Sorry was
Bloom1| to hear that.
In his hat high grave
|1deep1|
he
|1sad
|asadlya|1|
looked mute. Nurse
Callan sighed
|1pitying
ruing1|
fate for one so good yet
|1unwilling
to question God's will God's will to
question unwilling1|.
Bloom she told how
|1this
passed in Scotland this in Scotland
|ahada|
passed1|,
|1stomach
cancer the cause the
|adirea|
cause stomach
cancer1|.
|1His
Bloom's1|
mute,
|1condolent
ruminant1|
head, in held hat
|1unread
|adull
sadlyºa|1|
staring.
|1|xmasspriest
housel
sickmen's
oilx|1|
Death thus end to beginning links. On earth's face race afar race |1appears follows1|: appears and dies: but the deathless urge |1of to1| |1life ever onward ever onward life1| drives. Burdens we bare, burdened we, which the unborn must bear, if born.
Her Bloom |1softspeeched soft |aof ina| speech1| of |1Mona Mrs1| Purefoy |1human1| asked. If all well he |1begged craved1| to know. Hard her case nurse Callan said, hard the birth, if born, would be. Bloom on mat with hat hearkened. U.P. Josie ringletted hair he knew but |1nature's1| law strong, stern. Rueful he heard of pangs |1prolonged outdrawn1|: Woman's woe |1vicarious with wonder1| feeling |1a misteyed. The weteyed1| woman's tale Bloom heard. |1With1| So young she was, Young she is youth he longed for |1prolonged outdrawn1|. He on her |1looked as then as then looked1|. Nine years |1gone1|. |1A Virgin. |aAnd Virgin still. Yet |bvirgin blankb| she. A maid.a|1| Bloom |1pondered these things mute all weighed1|. Bloodflow nine Nine twelve bloodflows chiding her childless.
{Section II: MS V.A.11: U84 14.123-276}
{ms, 4}
And
|1as
whiles1|
they spake the door of the chamber
|1on
the upon
their1| left
|1was1|
opened and there
|1came
forth
|awas
heard
nigheda|1|
a
|1great
mickle1|
noise
|1as
him thought1| as
of many that
|1sat
had
assembled them1|
at meat and
|1were
made1|
merry to their
|1much1|
desport.
And there came
|1forth
against
the place as
they
stood1|
a young scholar of medicine,
hardy and noble,
that men
|1cleped
clepen1|
{ms, 5}
Dixon
|1junior
|afor him thought that sir
Malachi had come as
said,a|1| and he knew
|1Bloom
Master
sir
Leopold1|
for it was not long
|1time
gone1|
sithen they had
|1met
them
had
ado each with
other1| in the house
of our
|1mother
lady1|
of misericord where this scholar
|1dwelled
lay1|.
And he
said him that he
should in with them
for to make
merry.
|1But
And
|aBloom
sir Leopolda|
in hope to scape
free, said him
that he should go
other where
and
for1| he was
|1full
of cautels and sutle deceits and would not a
man of cautels
and a subtile |aand the
|bsister
good
nunb| was of
|bthat
mind his
avis
|cand
repreved this
scholarc|b|
though she
trowed
|bnot
wellb|
he
|bhadb|
said not sooth but
thing that was
false of his subtility.a|
and his
blank
would
not1|
|1And
But1|
he, this scholar, would not
|1have
him hear say nay nor do
|aher mandement
ne have him
neithera| in
aught1|
contrarious to his
list so
|1he
sir
Leopold1| went with
him into
|1that
this1|
chamber for there
many and he was
|1nothing
loth
fain1|
to rest
|1him for
a
space|a,
in
sooth,a|1|
being
|1weary
sore1|
of limb after
|1his
so1|
many marches
|1environing1|
and sometime venery.
In |1that this1| chamber sat at board a merry fellowship of |1scholars the most lustiest1| and they hailed |1Master Bloom sir Leopold1|, crying |1lustily amain1|, Welcome, |1sir pardee1|. With right goodly cheer was that board decked of |1salty well salted1| fishes |1withouten heads |aand oil of fatness of the olive and the lifegiving bread of fecund wheata|1| and bread and |1with a plenty of aleflasks aleflasks a great plenty1|. And |1they the scholars |aall the board abouta|1| with one accord they bade him |1to1| be of them and |1to1| and |1that this1| scholar let pour for him a draught of fellowship |1and |aaa| halp thereto |athe which |ballb| they drank every eacha|1| whereof |1he sir Leopold |ato pleasure hima|1| took |1but little |aonly apertly somewhat in |bfriendship fellowship |cfor he drank never no alec|b|a|1| but anon full part privily |1he1| voided it |1clean the more part1| into his neighbour glass |1|afor he drank never no alea|1|, he nothing of that will perceiving. |1So Thus1| sat |1he |aMaster Bloom sir Leopolda|1| with those |1merry drunken1| scholars. Loth to move |1in from1| Horne's house.
This meanwhile
this good mercy nun
stood by the door and
|1bade
begged1|
them of their
gentleness
|1of
|aby
at the reverence ofa|
Jesu
|aour
alther liege
lorda|1|
to leave their
wassailing for there was one above, a gentle dame,
whose time hied
fast. I
marvel, said sir Leopold, it be not come
or now
|1|afor
that meseemsa|
it dureth
overlong in the
coming1|.
And
|1|athere
wasa|
he was ware
|aof
& sawa|1| a
|1scholar
franklin1|
|1that1|
hight Lenehan that heard
him on
that side the
board|1,
one elder that was
older1| than
any of the
tother and to him sir
Leopold for that
he known to sir
Leopold of him
|1by
cause they were
|afellowknights
fellowsa| in the one
emprise1|,.º
But, said sir
Leopold to him
|1eke
by cause he was
elder1|,
or it be long too she will bring forth by God his
{ms, 6}
grace and have joy for she
|1is
in marvellous pains hath waited marvellous
long1|. And the
|1squire
franklin
|athat had
drunkena|1| said
|1missing1|,
Expecting each moment
to be her next.
Also he took the
cup that stood afore
him for him
needed
|1never1|
none asking
|1nor
desiring him to
drink1| and
|1now
drink, said he, and1|
he
|1drank
quaffed1|
as far as he
might to their
both's health for he was
a passing good man of
his lustiness.
|1Now
drink, said he and
And1|
sir that was the meekest knight that ever sat in hall, pledged him courtly in
the cup. Woman's woe with wonder feeling.
Now let us speak of that fellowship that was there to the intent to be drunken, an they might. There |1were was a sort of scholars, that is to wit, Dixon, yclept junior, with other his fellows.1| Dixon, |1yclept junior, and1| Lynch and Madden, scholars of medicine, and the franklin |1that1| hight Lenehan and one from Alba |1Longa1|, |1one one1| Crotthers, and the young |1knight1| Stephen |1that had mien of a |afriar frerea|1| that was at head of the board and a jester Costello, than men clepen Punch Costello |1|afor things all along upon a masterya| of him gested1| (and of all them, |1young Stephen reserved reserved young Stephen1|, he was the most drunken) and that demanded |1ever still1| of more ale) and beside the meek sir Leopold but on |1sir young1| Malachi they waited for that he promised to have come and such as intended to no goodness said how he had broke his advow. And sir Leopold sat with them for he |1had bore |afasta|1| friendship to sir Simon and to this his son young Stephen |1and for that his languor led him there |awhere |bafter longest wanderingsb| insomuch asa| they feasted him for that time in the honourablest manner1|. Ruth led him, |1knight,1| |1love1| led on, with lust to wander, yet loth to go.
For they were
|1right
witty1|
scholars. And he heard their
|1arguments
quarrels,
each gen other,
|aas
touching birth and
righteousness,a| young
Madden1|
maintaining that
|1in
put1|
such case it were hard the wife to die (for it had so fallen out
|1a
matter of some years
ago1| with a woman
of Dublin in
|1that
Horne's1|
house that now was
trespassed out of this
world) and
the self night next
before her death
|1all1|
they had taken counsel)
and they said
farther she should live because in the beginning they said the woman should
bring forth in pain and travail and wherefore they
said that were
of this
imagination said
affirmed how young
Madden had said truth for he had
{ms, 7}
conscience to let her die. And
|1some
not
few1|, and of these
was Lynch, were in
doubt that the world was
|1now1|
right evil
governed as it
was never other,
howbeit
the mean people
thought
|1meant
believed
it1| otherwise,
but the law
|1and
nor1|
his
|1canons
judges1|
did provide no remedy.
This was scant said
but all cried
with one voice the wife should live
|1as
well as other1|
sith she was God's creature, and the babe to
be die
|1so
little and little
|awhat
with argument and what for their
drinking,a|1|
they waxed hot
|1upon
that head
|awhat
with argument and what for their
drinking,a|1| but
the franklin Lenehan was promt to pour them ale so that
at the least way
mirth
|1should
might1|
nothing fail.
|1Then
|aTo
whom
Thena|1| the young
Madden showed all
the whole affair
and when they
had heard that case how that she was dead and her goodman
|1husband1|
for
|1holy1|
religion
|1sake1|
would not let her death
whereby they all
were wondrous grieved.
To whom the young
Stephen had these words following:
|1Sir
Sirs1|,
pity is well
|1and
murmur
|ais
ekea| oft
|awith
amonga| low
folk1| but if pity
be meet here
|1for
this born child1|, how
then for them those unborn that we daily do to death.
For
|1sir
sirs1|,
he said, our lust is brief but nature, giving it, had other ends.
Then said Dixon
junior to him that
hight Punch
Costello
wist he what
ends. But he had overmuch drunken
t
and the best word he
could have of him was he would ever
dishonest a
woman, whoso she were,
|1upon
occasion
|awere
shea| wife or maid or
leman,
on occasion if
it so fortuned
him to be delivered
of his
|alanguor
lustihooda|1|. Whereat
young Stephen
|1presently1|
poured him ale in his cup, saying it was well said if not well done. And
Crotthers of Alba Longa sang praise of that beast the unicorn
|1a
licomo1|
that
the which as sir
|1Binnetto
Malachi
|aafter
|bsirb|
Binnettoa|1| saith
|1how1|
once in a thousand years
|1comes
he
cometh1| by his
|1horns
horn
|abut he
|btook
them to witness
pricked forward
with their
jestin jibes
to
himward wherewith they did
malice
himb| all &
several would
witnessa|, by saint
Bastardry that for his privities
he was able to do
any manner of thing that lay in man to
do.1| Thereat
laughed they all
|1jocundly1|
only sir Stephen and sir Leopold
|1that
which1|
never durst laugh
too open for but
|1some
a
strange1| humour
|1which
he would not
bewray1|,
but he had pity for her who
bare, whoso she
|1was
were1|.
Then spake young
Stephen|1,
orgulous,1|
of
|1holy
mother1|
church, of law and canons, of birth
|1wrought1|
by wind
|1|aof
seeds of brightnessa| and
demons1| as divers
fable. Also
th he showed how
in the third month
of bigness of the
mother a soul
|1rational1|
was made and how in all our
{ms, 8}
|1holy
heavenly1|
mother foldeth
|1ever1|
souls for God's glory
|1what
though the earthly mother die
|ayet
should she die, by canon
yet should the earthly mother,
bringing forth
beastly, die, by
canon whereas the earthly mother that was but a
dam to bring
forth beastly
should die, by canon for so saith
|bthe
seal of he who
|chath
holdethc| the
fisherman's seal, even
he that
|cblessedc|
Peter on which rock was holy church
against for all ages
buildedb|a|1|. So
all they
bachelors
|1then1|
asked of sir Leopold
|1and
it he said as it was informed him
what
would he in like case so
jeopard her
person as risk
life to save
life1|.
A wariness of mind
he would answer as fitted all and said
|1dissembling1|
as it was informed
him
|1so
and
agreeing also with
his experience
|ain
case of
so seldomseen an
accidenta| by
|aPatrick
rock
saltpetrea|1| that
it was good
|1that
holy church with for that mother church belike
at1| one blow had
birth and death pence.
|1|aand
in
|band
so in
Inb|a|
such sort
deliverly he
scaped their question and
Dixon junior swore by the mass sir Leopold had said pregnant
saying.
That is truth, then
said Dixon junior, and
|aby
the mass or I
erra| as
pregnant
word.1|
Which hearing young
Stephen was a marvellous glad man and he
|1swore
averred1|
that
|1|athey
hea| who stealeth from the
poor lendeth to the
Lord1| for he was
|1ever1|
of a wild humour when he had
|1much
unread1|
drunken|1.
Now and1| that he was even |1now1| in that taking it appeared eftsoons.
But sir Leopold was passing grave, maugre his word, by cause he still had pity of |1shrillshrieking women the terrorcausing shrieking of shrill women1| that were |1with child brought to bed1| and he was minded of his good lady |1Marion1| that had borne him an only manchild which in his 11th day on live had died |1and no man of art could save so dark is destiny1| and she was wondrous stricken at heart for |1her babe so dead that evil hap1| and h to his burial, sore weeping, did him on a fair white corselet of lamb's wool, the flower of the flock, lest he might perish utterly and lie |1akale blank1| (for it was that time |1in about the1| midst of the winter): and now sir Leopold that had of his body no manchild for an heir looked upon him, his friend's son |1and was shut up in sorrow for his forepassed happiness1|, and as |1unread sad1| as he was that him failed a son of |1like parts and1| gentle courage |1for all accompted him of real parts1| so grieved also he in no less measure for young Stephen for that he lived riotously and murdered his goods with whores.
{Section III: MS V.A.11—V.A.12: U84 14.277-428}
{ms, 8}
About that present
time young Stephen filled full all cups that stood empty of their portion
|1so
as there remained but little mo, if some of the prudenter had not
shrouded their
approaches from him that
still plied it very
busily1|
and who, praying
for the intentions of
the sovereign pontiff, he gave them for a pledge the
vicar of Christ
|1that
what
also1|,
as he judged, was
with, by all signs
and tokens, vicar
of Bray. Now drink we of this chalice,
{ms, 9}
he said, and
quaff ye this
strong mead
which is not
|1indeed
parcel
of1| my body but
the bodiment of my soul. And he showed them fully proudly coins of the tribute
and goldsmiths' notes
|1to the
worth of three pounds,
|afive
tena|
shillings,1| that
he had for certain
sweet songs he had writ that were printed. They all admired to see that
riches and drank to his more health.
|1And to
them his words were
these as followeth.
For …1|
For, he said, as the ruins of time build mansions in eternity so will the thorn
tree, blasted by the winds of desire,
become
|1from a
bramblebush1| to
be the rose upon the rood of time. In the womb of a woman the word is made
flesh but in the spirit of the maker all flesh that passes is made into the word
that shall not pass away. Omnis caro ad te veniet.
No question but
her name is puissant,
omnipotentia
supplex,
|1that
is, |ato
wit,a|
|aas
Bernardus saitha| an
almightiness of
petition,1| whom we
call mother most venerable
|1our
mighty mother, she that
aventried our
Agenbuyer1|. But or
she knew him and
was but the creature of her creature, vergine madre, figlia di tuo figlio, or
she knew him not
and then stands she in the one denial or ignorance with Peter Piscator
|1that
|alaid
carrieda| the house that Jack
built,1| and Joseph
the Joiner
|1patron
of |athe happy death of
alla| unhappy marriages,
parce que qui l'avait mise dans cette
fichue position,
c'était le pigéon sacré nom
|ad'une
d'una|
pipe1|. Entweder
transsubstantiality oder consubstantiality but in no case subsubstantiality. And
all cried out as one
man: Out upon
|1subject
it1|
for a very
|1varlet
scurvy1|
word. A pregnancy without joy, he said, a birth without pain, a body
without blemish,
a belly without bigness. Let the
|1simple
lewd1|
with faith and
|1ardour
fervour1|
and veneration
worship with courage.
|1Will we
withsay & withstand.1|
Hereupon Punch Costello |1beating with his fist the board1| would sing |1Staboo Stabella1| a bawdy |1ballad catch |aof a |bmaid wench |cthat was putc|b| in pod of a soldier |bin Almainb|a|1| which |1he did now begin now begin he did1|
The first 3 months she was not well, Staboo
{ms, 10}
when nurse Quigley |1came blank1| to the door and bade them hist, ye should shame you, |1nor was it not meet as she remembered them,1| being her mind was to have all orderly against lord |1Horne Andrew1| came |1so that as she was jealous1| no turmoil might shorten the honour of her guard. |1It was an ancient and a sad matron.1| Nor did her |1word hortative1| want his effect |1and for straightways1| Punch Costello was of them all embraided and they reclaimed him with civil rudeness |1to countervail the same1| and with menace of blandishments |1|xothersx|1| |1|aA murrain sieze hima| What a devil he |aunread would be ata|1| to shut up his drunken drool out of that |1like a |agood blesseda| ape, |athe gooda| sir Leopold |aknowing that had |bthe flower of quiet for his cognisance for his cognisance the flower of quietb|, |bmargerain gentle,b| advisinga| the time's |ahaste occasiona|1|. In Horne's house rest should reign.
This passage
was scarely by when
|1Dixon
junior Master
Dixon1| asked of
Stephen when he purposed to take
|1orders
the
vows1| and he said
obedience in the
|1cradle
womb1|,
|1chastity
and in the
tomb
but1|
involuntary
poverty all his days. Master Lenehan at this said he had heard of those
nefarious
designs and how
|1as
he heard
counted,1| he had
besmirched the lily
virtue of a confiding female which was
corruption for
minors and, making merry,
they asked if he were
now a happy father. But he said he was the eternal son and
|1a
very virgin lecher the very virgin of
lechers1|. Thereat
they waxed merry and remembered him of his
|1bridaltory
bridal1|
rite for the
|1disrobing
and1| deflowering of
the spouse, she
|1to
be1| in white and
saffron, in saffron and scarlet
|1he
her
groom1|,
with burning of nard tapers and much else till she was unmaided and
|1made
got1|
to engender. And he gave them
the an excellent
|1hymen1|
song out of the Maid's Tragedy by
|1those
delicate poets1|
Master
|1John1|
Fletcher and Master
|1Francis1|
Beaumont that was writ for the twining of lovers: To bed, to bed was the
burden
|1that is
played sweetly on the
virginals1|.
And well met they were, said
|1Master1|
Dixon,
but|1,
by my
troth,1| better
were they named Beau mount and Lecher for ofº
{ms, 11}
suchº a mingling much might come.
And Master Stephen
said indeed
|1to
his best
remembrance1| they
had |1but
the1| one wench
between them
|1&
she of the stews
|ato
make shift with in
delights noble
|bwhich was the custom of the
countryb|a|1| for life
ran very high in those days. And greater love than this, said he, no man hath
that he lay down his wife for his friend.
Go thou and do
likewise for thus
|1or
words to that
effect1| spake
Zarathustra,
|1sometime1|
regius professor of
French letters in
the university of
Oxtail on the
Char
nor breathed there
ever that sage to whom mankind was more beholden.
|1Orate
pro me.1|
Seek unto him,
he said, and I will bring you
|1into
a unto
the1| land
|1of
behest1|,
he said,
|1even
from Horeb and from Pisgah and
|afrom Sinai and
froma| the horns of Hatten
unto a land1| flowing
with milk and money.
|1|aFor
Asa|, he said, the ends and
finalities of all things accord in some mean and measure with their inception
and their originals, the same
|amanifolda|
concordance which has led for the growth from birth accomplishing by
retrogressive
metamorphosis that lessening towards the final most consonant with
its the nature of
that which suffers, so is it with us from cradle to the grave. Over our birth
the aged sisters bend: we wail,
|aseek
battena|, live,
|afuck
clasp & sundera|: above
us dead they bend. Among the bulrushes
|asaved
from watera| of old Nile
|aa
ona| wattled bed: on Pisgah
of Bajan the bed a
jackal's cave. And as no-one knows
what the ubicity of
his
|agrave
tumulusa| nor to what
|aineluctablea|
processes we shall thereby be ushered
so nor whether to
Tophet or a land of promise in the like way is all hidden when we would backward
see from what region of remoteness
|aour
thea| whatness
|aof our
whonessa| has fetched his
whenceness.1| Thereto
Master Costello cried
|1to
him1| lustily:
Dedalus, song. And Master
Stephen he, loudly, bade them lo
|1wisdom
had built herself a house1|.
Behold the mansion reared by dedal Jack
See the malt
stored in many a
|1fluent
refluent1| sack
In the proud cirque of Ivan's bivouac.
And more would he have
rehearsed but a
noise
|1without1|
gave him sudden pause.
|1Loud1|
On left looming Thor
thundered.
|1The
god in
anger1| awful
|1hammerwight
a
hammerhurler1|. And
master Lynch bade young Stephen have a care
to witwanton for
the god was angered for his
hellprate
|1and
paganry1|.
And young Stephen
|1that
had erst
challenged to be
so doughty1|
waxed pale
|1and
shrank together1| as
he
|1heard
as
tasted
that storm and1|
they could all mark and his heart shook within
|1his
the cage of
his1| breast. Then
some mocked and
|1Punch
Costello fell hard
to drinking which Lenehan vowed he would do after and
he was but a word and
a blow1| one or
two cried
|1braggartly1|
for drink and in his fright he swore
he wo if the
|1fellow
Nobodaddy1|
above was in his cups he would
|1follow
not lag behind1| his lead but this
{ms, 12}
only to
|1drown
his great fear
dye
his desperation1|
as cowed he crouched in Horne's house. He drank indeed and all at one
draught to pluck
up |1a
face of any1| heart
for it thundered long
|1rumbling1|
over the heavens
|1so that
young Madden
|awho
was goodly being goodly certain
whilesa|
not
|athe
unread
of the
unread
unread
unread
his booma|
perceive1| and Master
Bloom
|1at his
side1| spoke to him
calming words
|1to
slumber his great
fear1|
|1that
it was but
advertising
how it was no other
thing but a
hubbub1|
noise
|1that he
heard1|, the discharge
|1of
fluid|a,
look
you,a|1| having
taken place and
|1all1|
of the order of a
natural phenomen
|1of
science1|.
{Section IV: MS V.A.12: U84 14.429-473}
{ms, 12}
But was young braggart's fear vanquished by calmer's words? No,
for he knew his own wretchedness which could not
|1be
done away with by words by words be done away
with1|. And was he
then neither calm like the one nor godly like the other? He was neither as much
as he would have liked to be either. But could he not
have endeavoured to
have found again
|1that
|aas in
his youtha|
the1| natural piety
that then he lived
withal? No
Indeed no for grace was not there to give it to him.
|1Would
Heard1|
he then in that thunder a voice of the god
|1Bring
Forth1| or, what
calmer said, a natural phenomenon? Heard? Why he could not forebear hearing both
of those things unless
peradventure he
had
|1him1|
up
|1his1|
understanding (which he had not done). For understanding told him that he was in
the kingdom of phenomenon where he must certainly one day die as he was too
a phen a passing
show like the rest. And
|1he
would would
he1| not so die like the rest and pass away? He would
{ms, 13}
not though he must nor would he make more shows
|1as
according as
|amen do with
wivesa|1| phenomenon
bade him by the law of his kingdom. Then
wotted he not of
that other kingdom which is the
true land of is called
|1promises
Believe on Me and that is
|athe
truea| land of behest which
is delightful and shall be for ever without alteration where there is also no
death |aneither wiving nor
motheringa| and no birth at
which all shall come as many as believe on
it1|? Yes: pious had
told him of that kingdom and chaste had pointed out to him the way thither but
the reason was that
|1on the
way1| he
fell in with a
|1certain1|
whore
|1of an
eyepleasing
exterior1| whose name
|1was,
she said, is1| Bird in
the Hand
|1of
an eyepleasing
exterior1| and
she beguiled him
|1wrongways1|
from the true way
|1and
told him he was a
very pretty man1|
and
|1so1|
had him in her grot which is named Two in the Bush or, by some learned
men
|1also1|,
Carnal Concupiscence.
This was that it
what all that company
|1that
sat |athere
at
commonsa|1| in
|1motherly
mansion
Manse
of Mothers1| the most
lusted after, and if they met with
|1that
this1|
whore Bird in the Hand
|1which
was all
|aplague,a|
foul
|amonstersa|
within |aand a horde of
devilsa|1| they would
|1make
at her and1|
strain hard but
they would know
her for regarding
|1chaste
believe on
me1| they said it was
naught else but
notion
|1and
they could conceive no thought of
it1|
for, first,
unread
two in the bush whither she
ticed them was
the
|1very1|
goodliest grot
|1|afor
and it had three doors which
werea| dalliance and loth
to brood and
chamber
|alove
delightsa|1|
and, second, for the
|1foulness
foul
monsters1| they cared
not for
|1it
them1|
for preservative had given them a stout shield
|1of
|aoxgut
oxenguta|1| and,
third,
|1that
they might take
neither1| no
hurt
|1might
come1|
{ms, 14}
|1to
them either1|
from offspring, that was a harmful
|1dwarf
devil1|,
by reason of this same shield which was named Killchild. So were they all in
their blind fancy, Mr
Godly, and Mr Cavil, and Mr Ape
|1Franklin
Swillale1|,
and Mr Dainty Dixon
|1Mr
False Franklin1| and
Young Braggart and Mr Cautious Calmer.
Wherein, O
wretched company, were ye all deceived for that was the voice of the god that
was in a most grievous
rage because
that he would
presently
spill their souls
for
|1these
their1|
abuses
|1which
they did against him and their
spillings1|
done by them
contrariwise to his word
|1which
all forth to bring biddeth which forth to
bring brenningly biddeth1|.
{Section V: V.A.12: U84 14.474-528}
{ms, 14}
So Thursday sixteenth June after much
drought, please
God, rained.
|1Some
countrymen A
bargeman1| coming in
|1by
water with some turf1|
saying
|1no
seed would
sprout1|, the
fields looked
athirst, very
sadcoloured
and stunk
mightily
|1the
quags
too1|. No use the
watering them and on the hills nought but
dry flag that would
catch at first fire and,
for aught they
knew, the big
wind of last February that did havoc the land
|1so
pitifully1|
was a small thing beside this
barrenness. But
|1by and
by1| as said that
evening
|1about
|aafter
sundown
|bbig{sup>{small>|c,
the wind sitting in
the west,c|
biggish
swollenb| clouds to be seen
and some lightnings at first and
aftera|
past1| ten of the clock one great
{ms, 15}
stroke with a long thunder and all running pellmell within doors for the
|1rain
smoking
shower1| the men
making shift
|1shield
cover1|
for their straw hats with a
|1clout
or1| kerchief, the
women all
|1ahaste
ahurry1|
with kirtles up
|1soon
as the pour
came1|. In Ely Place,
Baggot Street,
|1thence
through1| Merrion
Green up to Holles Street a lot of water running that was before bone dry but no
stroke after
that first. Over against Duke's Lawn Mal. Mulligan met Seymour
|1of
Trinity College |athat was
|beven
returned new
got to
townb| from Mullingar with
the coacha|1|
he bound home and he
to
|1Andrew1|
Horne's
|1but1|
|1would
tell him of a
|apretty
|bfair
|ccomely
skittishc|b|a|
wench |ahe
|bknew
fanciedb|a|1| and so
then both on
|1to
Horne's1|
together. There Bloom
|1sitting
snug1| with
|1some
a
party1|
wags|1,
likely fellows
among them Dixon jun.,
and
Ja. Lynch and
doc Ja. Lynch, Doc.
Madden and young
Stephen D.1| for a
languor he had before but was now better, he having dreamed
tonight a
strange
|1dream
fancy1|
and mistress Purefoy there to be delivered,
and poor body, two
days past her time and the midwives sore
put to it, God
send her
|1quick1|
issue. In sum, a
|1marvellous
infinite1|
great fall of rain that will much increase the harvest
|1but
yet1|
some believe after wind and water fire shall come
|1for
a
|aphecy
|bprophecy
prognosticationb|a| of
Malachi1| to have
three things in all but this
|1a mere
fetch1| for
wives women
|1bairns1|
and such cattle yet sometimes they are found
|1right
in the right
guess1|
there was no knowing how.
{Section VI: V.A.12: U84 14.529-650}
{ms, 15}
With this
|1came1|
up Lenehan
|1comes1|
to
|1Stephen
the hither end of the
table1| to say how the
letter was in that night's gazette and he made a show as if he could find
{ms, 16}
it about him (for he swore
|1with
several
oaths1|
he had been at pains about it) but
on the persuasion
of Stephen he gave over to search and
|1sat
by was bidden to sit near by which he did
mighty
brisk1|. He was a
kind of sport gentleman that
|1many
took
went1|
for a
merryandrew or
honest pickle and
what belonged of
women, horseflesh or scandal in the town he knew it pat. To tell the truth
he was mean in his
fortunes and for the most part
hankered about the
stews
|1|aand
low taverns |bat nights till
broad
dayb|a| with
crimps and ostlers
|aand other gentlemen of the
gamea| of whom he picked up
loose gossip1|
|1and.
He took his ordinary
at1| the
boiling
cook's but if he had
|1gotten1|
but a mess of
broken victuals
into him or a bare
tester in his
pocket in a company he could always
bring himself off with
his tongue, some
pretty story he
had from a punk or
whatnot that every
mother's son of them would
burst their sides.
The other, Costello that is, on hearing of this asked was it
some poetry
or a tale.
Faith no,
|1he
says,1| Will,
|1he
said,1| (that
was his name), 'tis all about
|1horned
cattle Kerry
cows1| that are to be
all
|1killed
butchered1|
presently
along of the
|1pest
plague1|.
But they can go hang, says he, for me with their
|1meat
bully
beef1|, pox on it.
There's as good fish in this tin as ever came out of it and very friendly
he offered to take
of some salty sprats
|1which
he had been looking
wishly
on1| that stood by for
this was indeed the
chief design of his embassy.
|1What
Mort aux
vaches1|, says Mr
|1Frank
Will1|
that
|1was
had been
unread1|
articled to a merchant in Bordeaux and he spoke French like a gentleman
|1too
|a|bfor
he was wisful from a child and
from a child he
had been a donothing
|cdonaught
donoughtc| and then would
study to be a
divine but that the wenches misled
him.b|a|1| What? says
Mr Leopold that was
earnest to know the
|1matter
drift1| of it, will they slaughter all. I
{ms, 17}
|1protest
I1| saw them but this
morning going to the
|1English1|
boats, says he. I can scarce believe 'tis so bad as is
|1put
about
blank1|.
|1'Tis
perhaps
You are
misinformed He said it was very
likely1| the hoose or
the timber tongue
|1for he
had experience of the like,
|aviza|
|agreasya|
hoggets and springers
and1|
|1|xof
Gavin Low's
brood cattle, meadow
auctions, having been at one time
|aof his
lifea|
an actuary for
Mr Joseph
Cuffe's, a
|aworthya|
salesmaster |athat
drove his
tradea| in
Prussia
streetx|1| But Mr
Stephen a little moved
but very handsomely told him no such matter that he had a letter from the
emperor's
chamberlain that
was sending two of
the
|1respectablest
horseleeches bestquoted
horseleech1| in
|1his
kingdom all Muscovy
|awith a bolus or two of
physica|1|
to take the bull by
the horns.
|1Ay
Come
come
unread
plain dealing1|,
says Mr Lynch and if
he'll find himself on the horns of a dilemma, says he, if the bull's
Irish. Irish she is
|1|aor
I'll swing for
ita|1|,
says Mr Stephen,
|1sending
and he
sent1| the ale
|1purling1|
about
|1|ato
all who had lust for
ita|1|.
An Irish bull in an
English chinashop. I conceive you, says Mr Dixon, and that same bull was
sent
|1here
to
the our
island1| by the
bravest cattlebreeder of them all that was
the
jolly
fat farmer
|1Mr
a
certain1| Nicholas
Breakspeare
with an emerald ring in his nose.
|1That's
true
True1|
for you, says Mr Lynch
|1cross
the table1|, and a
bullseye too into
the bargain
|1and
a properer A
sleeker1| and a
|1handsomer
plumper1|
bull never shit on a
buttercup
|1on
clover on
shamrock1|. He had
a pair of golden
horns on him and a
coat of cloth of gold and
|1a1|
sweet smoky breath so that all the women of
|1Ireland
the country
|a|bleft
leavingb| their pots and
rolling pinsa|1|
followed after him, hanging daisychains on his horns.
|1To
be sure he was gelded by farmer Breakspeare that
|aTo
be sure he was gelded in good order by four doctors at the command of farmer
Breakspeare that Before he came Farmer Nicholas, that was a
eunuch, had him properly gelded by seven
|bdoctors
|ccowdoctors
cowcatchersc|b| that were no
better off than himself |xBe
off now, says he, with a farmer's blessing and
withº he
slapped his
posteriors very soundly.
|aBut the slap and the
gelding stood him
frienda|x|
|xby our Virgin
Motherx| but
|bfor
all to make up
forb| that
hea|1| taught him
|1his
trade but a trick worth two of the other so
that1| maid, wife and
widow to this day
|1all1|
affirm they would rather
{ms, 18}
any day
|1of the
month1| whisper in his
ear |1in
|aa
dark the dark of
aa|
cowhouse1| or get a
lick or two on the neck from his
|1ticklish1|
tongue than lie with
|1any
pretty fellow the finest strapping young
ravisher1|
between in the four
fields of
|1all1|
Ireland. Another then
put in his word:
and they dressed him up, says he, in a shift and petticoat with a tippet round
his neck and built a barn for him with a fine manger in it full of the best
grass for by this time our bull was grown so
he fat and heavy
that he could scarce walk to pasture. To remedy which they brought him his good
feed of fodder in their apronlaps, and, as soon as his belly was full, he used
to rear up on his hind quarters to show them a mystery and
|1bellow
and roar roar and
bellow1| to that
extent they were struck with wonder. Ay, says a third, but worse than that he
grew so pampered he would have nought in the land but green grass growing for
himself and the
|1native1|
herd
|1(for
green was the only colour that was
to his
mind)1| and if
ever he got scent of a
husbandman that
was sowing as much as a handful of mustard or a bag of rapeseed he'd run
amok over half the countryside rooting up with his horns whatsoever was planted.
To cut it short all the men of the island seeing no help was
|1for
it
toward1|,
as their
|1ungrate1|
women, old and young, were all of the one mind, made a raft of timbers and
loading themselves and their chattels aboard
|1they
set all masts erect, spread 3 sheets on the wind, ran up the Jolly Roger
and1| pushed off from the land in quest of
{ms, 19}
better
|1beyond
the main of
America1| which
was the occasion of the composing of that spirited song
|1Pope
Peter's but a pissabed.
A man's a man for a' that.1|
{Section VII: V.A.12: U84 14.651-844}
{ms, 19}
Our worthy
|1friend
acquaintance1|
Mr Malachi Mulligan
|1with
a friend of his who had lately come to town, it being his intention to take the
King's
commission1|
now appeared in the doorway just
as the as student was concluding his apologue
|1|aaccompanieda|
with a friend of his |aa
young gentleman,a|
|aMr
Seymour
his name Mr
Seymoura| who had lately
come
|aupa|
to town, it being his intention to take a
cornetcy
|aand so to the
warsa|1|. He
relished it was kind
enough to express
|1his
some1|
relish of it and
all the more as it
jumped with a
project of his own
for the very evil which had been
touched
|1upon
on1|.
|1Whereupon
Whereat
|a(having
before
|bMr
Mulligan now After this
homily
heb|a| removed from his hat a
handkerchief with which he had sheltered it
|afrom
the rain, they.
Theya|
both had been
surprised by the
|awater
rain |bit
seems,b|a| and for all their
mending their pace
had been taken water as might be seen by large spots of moisture on
mr Mr
Mulligan's suit, a
|alight
hoddena| grey
|aworsteda|
which was now somewhat
piebald
—1| he handed
round to the company a set of
|1pasteboard1|
cards which he had had printed at Thom's on which
|1were
to be read in flowing italics these words was
this legend printed in flowing
italics1|:
Malachi Mulligan,
Fertiliser. His
project, as he
went on to expound, was to withdraw from the round of idle pleasures such as
form the chief business of
|1our
men
sir
|afopp
foplinga|1|
|1about
in1|
town and to devote himself to the noblest task for which the bodily organism is
destined.
|1He had
been led into this
thought by a
consideration of
the causes of sterility
|awhether
caused by a volition
inhibitions or volition caused both by inhibition and
prohibitiona|, whether the
inhibition in its turn was due to
conjugal vexations
or to motives of
|aeconomy
thrifta|, whether the
prohibition proceeded from defects congenital or from
|ablank
propensitiesa| acquired. It
grieved him, he said, sorely to see the nuptial couch
|adeprived
defraudeda| of its
dearest pledges
and to reflect upon so many
|abeauteous
maidens
|bagreeableb|
females |bwith rich
jointuresb|a|
who lose their
bloom in cloisters when they might
multiply the inlets
to happiness, sacrificing the
inestimable
jewel of their sex when
a hundred pretty
fellows were at hand to caress had been to him
a thorn in the
flesh1|
|1To
this end To end this inconvenience
|ahe
had havinga|
advised with
certain good heads he concluded it to be due to a suppression of
latent
heat1| he had
resolved to purchase the freehold of Lambay island from count Considine, a gentleman of note much in favour with
{ms, 20}
our high church party, are there to set up a national fertilising farm
|1to be
named the Ladies'
Friend1| he
offering his dutiful services to any female
|1who
should direct to
him1|, no matter
what her grade in life, who felt the need of fulfilling the function of her
nature.
|1This
His1|
project was very
favourably entertained by his audience
|1and1|
Mr Mulligan
|1drove
home his contention for
|ain
suffrage of his contention
|bin
support of his intention
while
|che
made court to while he drove home his point
withc|b|a|1| the
scholarly by an apt verse from the
classics|1,
which as it dwelt upon
his memory was a
|a—
conclusivea| confirmation of
his contention, |aTalis ac
tanta
|bdepravatio
seculi nostri pravatio hujus
seculib|, O quirites, ut
matronae
|aromanae
nostrae
|blascivasb|
semiviri cuiuslibeta|
spadonis Libici
titillationes
|atesticules
pregravibus
erectioniunread
sublimis testibus ponderosis
|bet
atqueb|a| erectionibus
excelsisa|
centurion.
centurionum Romanorum
|a|bproviterb|a|
magnopere
anteponunt.1| and for
those of ruder wit by analogies of the animal kingdom
|1more
suitable to their
relishes,1| the
doe of the forest
and her buck,
|1the
Stoat,1| the drake of
the farmyard and
|1her
the1| duck.
Valuing himself
not a little upon his elegance he now
applied himself
to his person with animadversions of some spleen upon the sudden shower
while the company lavished their
encomiums upon
the project he had
advanced. The
young gentleman, his friend,
bore him out and
was full of a
passage that had lately befallen
him|1,
and overjoyed as
he was,1| which he
could not forbear to
tell his nearest neighbour. Mr Mulligan now, perceiving the table, asked for
whom were the loaves
and fishes and then, seeing Mr Bloom, he made him a civil bow and
|1asked
if he were said,
Pray, Sir, were
you1| in need of
{ms, 21}
any professional assistance
|1that we
can give1|?
|1Mr
Bloom
Who,
upon his offer,1|
thanked him very heartily
|1though
preserving his proper
distance,1| and
made return that
he was come there to
about a
|1lady
blank
of Horne's
house1| that was in
an interesting
condition
|1from
woman's woe, poor body,
|aand he
here fetched a deep
sigha|1| to know
if her happiness had
|1yet1|
taken place. One of the company there
|1rallied
him upon his
plan,1| asking Mr
Mulligan
|1would
he give also a guarantee by asking, when was
it known
blank1|
he smote himself
|1at
the middle below the
diaphragm1|, saying
|1with an
admirable imitation of
|amistress
unread
Mother Grogana|
(|aan
a mosta|
excellent woman
of her sex though 'tis pity she's a
trollop
|atooa|)1|,
There's a belly
that never bore a bastard.
This was so happy a
conceit that it renewed the storm of mirth and threw the whole room into the
most violent
agitations of delight. He had run on in the same vein but that his
|1mimicry
mimicking1|
was arrested by a larum in the antechamber.
The young gentleman |1having treated himself and his next listener, who was none other than the Glasgow student, to some cordial waters1| had just reached the salient point of his narration was still narrating to his neighbour.
At this point the listener who was none other than the student from Aberdeen
congratulated in
the liveliest fashion
with the young
gentleman and, interrupting the narrative at a salient point,
|1desiring
desired1|
his vis a vis
|1|aby
witha| a polite
beck1|
to be so kind as
to
|1have
the obligingness
to1| pass him a flagon
of cordial
waters, by a questioning poise of his head (a whole century of polite
breeding had not achieved so
nice a gesture!)
to which was united an equivalent but contrary balance of the bottle asked him as plainly as was ever asked in words
{ms, 22}
if he might
treat him with a
cup of it.
|1|aMais,a|
Bien
sûr,1| That
you may, said the young gentleman,
|1cheerily
and1| very
opportunely. There
wanted nothing but this cup to crown my felicity. But was I left with
|1a
bare only
a1|
crust in my
wallet and
|1a
draught some pure
water1| from the well
|1My
God,1| I could
|1not1|
find it in my heart
|1to
blame
kneel
down upon the ground and thank heaven
for1| my lot. With
these words he took a
complacent draught
of the cordial,
slicked his hair
and popping his
hand into his
bosom drew forth a
|1|apicturea|1|
locket that hung from a silk ribbon,
|1the
very same that
very1| picture
which he had
cherished ever
since her fair hand
had wrote on it
upon it therein.
Gazing upon the picture with
a world of
tenderness, Ah, sir, he said,
|1to
see her was to adore her Had you but seen her
|athen
|bat
that moment
|cthat
evening by the dim lake at that
affecting instant
in such an artless
disorder, |dof so melting
an expression, believe me,d|
you too,
|dsir
Monsieurd|, had been impelled
either to deliver yourself into the hands of so fair an enemy or to
quit the
fieldc|b|a|1|
|1I
declare,1| I was
never so touched in all my life. How happy will that man be
|1to
whom she will concede the last
|ato
whom she will bless with her whom that tender creature will
bless with
hera|1|
favours! A sigh of
affection gave eloquence to his words and,
|1replacing
having
replaced1| the locket,
he wiped his
eyes and sighed again.
|1Just
powers above,
Beneficent
distributor of blessings to all
|asublunary
thya|
creatures,1| how great
|1&
universal1| must be
that sweetest of
|1thy1|
tyrannies which holds
|1subject
in
thrall1| the
|1poet
unlettered
swain
of the
glebe1|
and the
|1polished1|
coxcomb
|1of the
road1|, the free and
the bond, the reckless youth
|1in the
heyday of
passion1| and the
citizen of maturer years! Yet how mingled and imperfect are all our human joys.
Would to God, he
cried, that prudence
had but
|1whispered
reminded1|
me to take my cloak along. Then
had neither
we though it rained
four showers we were neither of us a penny the worse. But,
beshrew me, cried
he, clapping hand
to his brow, tomorrow's
{ms, 23}
a new day and it will go
hard I
|1saw
as pretty a row of cloaths not long since in Monsieur
Poyntz's
|aknow a
shop where I can have for a
livrea| as pretty a
cloak1| as ever
|1sheltered
kept1|
a lady from wetting.
Tut, cried
Monsieur le fêcondateur, tripping in, my friend
Monsieur Moore,
|1that
a1|
most accomplished traveller with whom I have just cracked a bottle,
|1tells
me is my
authority1| that in
Cape Horn they
have a
|1violent1|
rain that will wet through
any|1,
even the stoutest,1|
cloak.
|1|xa
drenching of that violence, he tells me, that it has sent more than one
luckless fellow
posthaste to another
worldx|1| A livre,
cries out Monsieur Lynch.
|1They
The
clumsy
things1| are dear at a
sou. |1No
woman of any wit would wear them. My dear Kitty told me she would dance in a
deluge before ever she would starve herself in such an ark of salvation for as
she said (and this she whispered in my
ear)1|
Dame Nature has
implanted
|1it1|
in our hearts,
|1|aSo
that that it has become a
household
worda|1| that
|1|xIl y
a deux chosesx|1|
there are two
|1things
actions1|
for which nudity, in other
|1actions
circumstances1|
a breach of decorum, is the fittest and indeed the only garment.
(and
unread
the first and the second
|1a
bath1| — But at
this point a bell in the hall, ringing loudly, cut short
|1most
untimely1| a
{ms, 24}
discourse which
has
had set out promised
for the enrichment of our
|1store
of1| knowledge.
While all were taken up with vacant hilarity |1of all1| the bell rung and, the good Miss Callan, while all were |1speculating conjecturing1| as to the cause, came in and, having spoken |1a few words1| to the young |1Doctor Surgeon1| Mr Dixon, retired with a low bow to the company. The presence for the moment among a party of debauchees of a woman endued with every quality of modesty and not less severe than beautiful refrained even the humour of the most ribald but her departure was the signal for an outbreak. Strike me silly, Dixon, said Mr Costello, I believe she has rendezvoused you. What, you dog? |1'Tis because he has the bedside manner, You succeed with them? Immensely so,1| said Mr Lynch. A bedside manner it is that they use in the Mater. Have I not seen Sir Mickey O' chuck the nuns |1there1| under the chin? |1Bless me, Lawksamercy!1| r cried the gentleman in |1black the primrose |astomacher vesta|1|, |1No such things happen? feigning a most ladylike voice & |awitha| unbecoming squirmings1| |1You make me feel |aBless me,a| I'm1| all of a |1pickle wibblywobbly1|, doctor. |1Why you're as bad as Father Brady, |athat you area|.1| My Kitty can tell you, said Mr Lynch, |1that's that has been1| wardmaid there |1any time1| these seven months.
{Section VIII: NLI.11A: U84 14.845-1109}
{ms, 1}
Toº
revert to Mr Bloom
who, after his first coming into the room had been conscious of some
impudent mocks
from them, but but
had borne with them, as the product of
|1overheated
imagination an age
|aupon which it is commonly
chargeda|
that
|acommonlya|
has more money than
forecast1|
the word of Mr
Costello was a strange language to him for in truth he
nauseated the man
that seemed to him a misshapen creature got in some uncouth way &
|1prematurely1|
born untim
|1before
his time1|.
They were full of
extravagancies|1,
like overgrown
children1| it was
true and
|1their
words words of their
tumultuary
discussions were
difficulty
understood1|
were not often
nice: their
testiness and
outrageous fire
were such that his
nature resiled
from: nor were they
scrupulously
tender of the proprieties though their
fund of
|1strong1|
animal spirits spoke
in their behalf
|1as
such as
put him in thought
of1| that that
|1desiderated
missing1|
link in the chain of
beings desiderated by
the late ingenious
Doctor Darwin. It was now more than the middle span of our existence that he
had passed through
the thousand
vicissitudes of life and being,º of a
wary stock and
self a man of rare forecast, he had
enjoined himself
to repress all motions of
rising choler
and, by intercepting
them with the
readiest precaution, foster within himself that
|1mood
of patience fullness of
sufferance1| which
base minds jest at, the hasty scorn and
|1all1|
find tolerable and
but tolerable. To
those who create
themselves wits at the cost of feminine delicacy to them
he would concede
neither to bear the
name nor to inherit the spirit of good breeding: and
it had revolted him
and for such as
having lost all
forbearance
|1have
no more to lose can lose no
more1| there
remained the sharp
antidote of
|1rebuke
experience to cause their insolency to
beat a
retreat1|.
Not but what he
could feel with
mettlesome youth
which is ever for eating
|1the
tribute1| of the fruit
of the tree
forbid it
|1caring
nought for the
megrims of
|adotards
the severea| and the
|ainspirations
gruntlingsa|
of
|adotardsa|1|
yet no so far forth as to forget humanity upon any condition
soever towards a
gentlewoman when she was about her lawful occasions.
{ms, 2}
Toº
conclude while,
from the sister's words, when questioned, he had
reckoned upon a
speedy
delivery
he was, however, it
must be owned, not a little
alleviated by the
intelligence that the
|1event
issue1|,
so auspicated
after a trial of such duress, now testified once more to the mercy as much as to
the bounty of the
Supreme Being.
|1Accordingly
he broke his
mind to his neighbour saying
that1|
To express my notion
of the thing,
|1said
he to his
neighbour,1|
|1my
his1|
opinion (who ought not perhaps to express one) is that one must needs have a
cold constitution and
a cold genius not to be rejoiced by this
freshest news
|1of the
conclusion fruition
of her
confinement1|
since she had been in such pain through no fault of hers. The elegant young
spark said it was
the husband's
fault
|1that
put her in
pod1|, or
|1at
least1| it ought to
be
|1unless
she be another
Ephesian
matron1|. I
must acquaint you,
said Mr Crotthers,
|1clapping
a hand on the table so as to produce a resonant comment of
hilariousness1|
|1he
holy
|aJoseph
Joea|1| was here
today, a short meagre
man with
Dundreary whiskers
preferring a request
to
|1see
have news
of1|
Wilhelmina, his
life, for so he calls her. I bade him hold himself in readiness for the
event for that it
would burst anon.
Though
somewhat stricken in
years for my part I
|1admire
cannot but
extol the virile
potency of
one1|
the old bucko
|1that
who1|
could
|1still1|
knock another child
out of her. All then
fell to praising
of it, each in his way though the same young spark
held with his former
opinion that another was the
man in the gap.
Singular, muttered
Mr Bloom to himself, the
wonderfully unequal
|1temper
faculty1|
of their time
modification possessed by them,
|1that
the puerperal chamber and the dissecting theatre should be the
seminary of such
unseemly mirth and1|
that the mere acquisition of academic honours should
suffice to
transform
|1in
a pinch of time1|
these votaries of
levity into
the exemplary
practitioners of that art which
most men anywise
eminent esteem the noblest.
But,
her he further
added, perhaps it is but done to
relieve their
pentup feelings of awe for I have more than once observed that
birds of a feather laugh together.
With what fitness,
let it be asked,
has this alien
|1whom
the concession of a
gracious prince has admitted to civic rights, of
a tenancy at
will1|
arrog constituted
himself
|1a
the1|
lord paramount of
|1morals
our
politics1|?
|1Where
is now that gratitude which every loyal impulse should have inspired. During
the recent war
|awas
he not an eager applauder of the victories of our foes whenever
the enemy had the advantage did he seize the occasion to
discharge his
piece against the imperial
forcesa| while
w in the same breath
he trembled for the security of his
four per
cents?1|
Not to adduce
Has he quite
forgotten his own
shortcomings?
Or is it from
being a deluder of
others he has become in the end his own
|1victim
dupe
|aas he is also his own
enjoyera|1|?
|1Far
be it from candour to
|adrag
into the public papers violate the
bedchamber
ofa| a
respectable
lady, the daughter of a gallant major, or to cast
the most distant
reflection upon her virtue but (as
it was indeed highly
his interest not to
have not to have done if he challenged the attention
of the public papers
of the public papers) then
be it so.
|aThat
unhappy
Unhappya| woman, she has
been too long & too persistently denied her legitimate
prerogative
to be subjected now to the
comments of the public papers
to be in need of any
to hear his objurgation with any other feeling than the contempt it deserves. He
says this, a censor of
morals, who
was not did not
scruple beneath his own roof and oblivious of the ties of nature to enter into
illicit relations with a
domestic
servant, drawn
from the lowest strata of
society.1|
|1|xIn
the question of the
grazing
landsx|
|xand Mr
Cuffex|
|xwas present when
|ahe received at the hand
ofa| an eminent cattlebreeder
publicly a rebuke
couched in terms
|aof
asa| homely
|abut
as they werea|
straightforward. It
ill becomes him to raise that point. Has he himself not
a seedfield nearer
home which has been
lying fallow for the
want of a ploughshare?x|1| A habit which is
{ms, 3}
reprehensibleº
at puberty is an
opprobrium to
middle life. If
|1he
aims at restoring this be his balm of Gilead
to
restore1|
to health a
generation of
|1sinners
unfledged
profligates1| let
his practice consist
better with
|1his
the1|
doctrines
|1that
now engross his
attention1|. His
marital breast is
the repository
of many secrets
which common
|1decency
decorum1|
is
|1unwilling
reluctant1|
to adduce. The lewdness
of some faded
beauty may
|1console
him supply a wise
substitute1| for that
other's hardihood who
debauched his wife
but this exponent of
morality
natural philosophy is at best a
tree which has lost much of its virtue in transplantation
|1whose
balm1|
tree which
|1if
it was when
rooted1| in Gilead
is drooping abundant
|1in
of1|
its balm, transplanted
|1has
lost its its roots have
their1| vigour while
the stuff that comes
away from it is stagnant and inoperative.
Theº
|1joyful
event of the birth of the heir
tidings1|
was
|1announced
by imparted
with1| the customary
|1whisper
imparted
circumspection1|
by the second
|1female1|
attendant to the junior resident
physician who at
once announced to the
|1delegates
delegation1|
that an heir had been born. When
he had retired
|1with
her1|
to the
women's apartments to assist at the afterbirth the delegates,
chafing under
the solemnity
|1and
length of the vigil1|
|1imposed1|
upon them and hoping to have in the
|1joyful1|
event a palliation for
license, which the
absence of abigail
and medical officer
rendered the easier, broke out
|1at
once1| into a strife
of tongues. In vain
the voice of
Mr Canvasser Bloom
was heard endeavouring
to urge, to mollify, to refrain: the moment was too propitious for the
display of that discursiveness which seemed the sole bond of union among tempers
so varied and divergent. Every aspect of the situation was in turn eviscerated:
|1the
prenascence
the
prenatal
struggle1| of
uterine brothers,
the Caesarean operation, the
|1rights
of1| primogeniture
|1&
queen's
bounty1| of
twins, the trigeminal
birth and triplets,
|1miscarriage
&
infanticide,1|
the recorded instances of multigeminal
|1and
monstrous1| births
and
|1these
the1|
gravest problems of obstetrics and
|1jurisprudence
forensic
medicine1| were
discussed
|1by
some1|
with
|1as
with1|
much animation
|1awhile
while1|
as the most popular beliefs and paranoia on the subject of
{ms, 4}
pregnancyº
such as the
relief that
injunction to a pregnant woman not to step over a countrystile lest the
navelcord, in consequence of her movement, should strangle
|1her
the1|
foetus and the
injunction to her in the case of a
|1desire
yearning1|,
ardently
|1&
ineffectually1|
entertained
|1and
incapable of
satisfaction1|,
to
touch lay her hand
against that
|1region
part1|
of her person which
|1has
been long usage
has1| consecrated
|1by
long usage1| as
the seat of castigation. The instances of
harelip and
strawberry stain were adduced by
|1one1|
— as a prima
facie and natural explanation of the swineheaded
|1and
or1|
doghaired infants occasionally born in opposition to the Caledonian envoy, whose
su theory
|1of the
plasmic memory1|,
worthy of the
|1metaphysical
traditions of1| the
land of his he stood
for, was saw in
these cases an arrest of embryonic development at a stage antehuman.
|1Against
both these views was that of a
|aA
Against both aa|1|
foreign delegate of a somewhat bestial
cast of
countenance sustained with such
|1personal
fervour
heat1|
as almost carried conviction the
frequen
|1frequent
cases1| of copulation
between women and the males of brutes
|1not
so much by reference to such stories as that of the Minotaur which the elegant
Roman poet has transmitted as rather by his authority being his
own avouchment in support of fables such as that of the Minotaur which the
elegant Roman poet has presented for us. The impression which his words made on
a mobile assembly was immediate but shortlived. It was
easily effaced as
easily as it had been
evoked1| but
his view was the
impression made on the mobile assembly was easily effaced by an allocution from
Mr Candidate Mulligan
|1in
which he postulated
in
that vein of pleasantry which
|anone more
thana|
he
|aaffected
knew how to affecta|,
postulating1| as the
extremest objects of desire a lawn mower or a wellconducted elderly gentleman of
cleanly habits. Contemporaneously with this jest an argument having arisen
between Mr Delegate Madden and Mr Candidate Lynch respecting the juridical and
theological dilemma in the case of one Siamese twin predeceasing its yokefellow
the question was referred by mutual consent to Mr Deacon Dedalus
|1who,
hitherto.
Hitherto1| silent,
|1whether
in obe
of the
because the better
to show that curial authority in whose garb he was vested or in obedience to an
inward
|asuggestion
voicea|1| delivered
briefly and, as some thought, perfunctorily the
|1ecclesiastical1|
sentence forbidding
man to put asunder what God had joined.
{ms, 5}
|1What is
the age of the soul of
man?1|
Hathº the soul not the virtue of the
chameleon that clothes itself with the hue of its surroundings? Is
|1it
she1|
gay with the gay, sad if others that are so approach
|1its
her1|
place? Nay, not only her mood changeth but her age as well. Leopold is no more
the staid man
publicity agent as he sits there.
|1They
might be his sons1| He
is young Leopold of a score of years back. And as such he beholdeth himself, as
in a mirror within a
mirror|1,
that
|ain
retrospective
arrangementa|.
That1| figure of then
|1is
seen1| walking on
nipping mornings from the old house in Clanbrassil Street to the
High school with
his satchel of books and a hunk of brown loaf. Or it is the same,
a brace of years
|1more
later1|,
in its first hard hat
|1(that
was a day!)1|, already
on the road, a fullfledged traveller for the family firm,
|1equipped1|
with a large notebook for orders, a scented handkerchief
|1peeping1|,
|1a
bundle of stuff and samples
samples
a case of bright
trinkets1| and many
compliant smiles for
|1the
worried any
young1| housewife,
reckoning on her fingertips. The scent, the smile and most of all the dark eyes
brought many a commitment home
|1at
dusk1| to
|1the
aging
father1|
Rudolph.
|1But
hold, the
But
hold!
The1| mirror is
breathed on and the young traveller shrivels to an ever
|1withdrawing
dwindling1|
point within the mist.
He is the father
now, himself, and they might be his sons. Who knows?
|1The
wise father knows his own
child.1| He thinks
of a drizzling night in
|1Montague
lane Hatch street by the bonded
stores1|,
|1of
other
meetings1| the
first., a
|1poor
waif waif of the
streets1|,
a child of shame
|1of one
and of all for a paltry shilling &
|aa
hera|
luckpenny1|. The
|1heavy1|
tread of the watch
passing|1,
heavily caped, the
university1|.
Bridie Cullen, he
will ever remember the name,
|1the
their1|
bridenight. They are entwined in
|1the
nether
|xinteriorx|1|
darkness
|1the
will with the willed and in an instant light shall flood the
world1|. But hold!
Back! The poor waif flees away through the
|1night
murk1||1,
afraid1|. She
is the bride of
|1darkness
blank:
the daughter of the night1| she dare not bear
{ms, 6}
theº
|1|asungolden
sunnygoldena|1| babe
of
|1light
day1|.
No, Leopold. The
name and the memory solace thee not.
The illusion of
|1youthful1|
strength is taken from thee and in vain. There is none now
|1no
Rudolph1|
to be for Leopold what was Leopold for Rudolph.
The voices blend and fuse in clouded silence: silence that is infinite distance: and far beyond the mearingstones of cycles of generations |1that have lived1| the soul is swiftly, softly, silently borne. Ever recurrent twilight where grey eve ever descends and never falls on the wide sagegreen pasturefields, shedding her dusk, scattering a perennial dew of stars. She follows a mother with ungainly grace, the mare leading her filly foal, phantoms of the twilight clouds wherein the slim and shapely haunches, the neck so meek, supple and tendonous, the |1apprehensive1| skull are moulded into a grace of mysterious and prophetical speech. And they are gone and all is gone and Kennereth |1of the silvery silky kine1| is barren. And waste and land is the land of |1Tiberia Agendath Netaim1|. What voice rises from Netaim |1the fruitful1| and from vanished Kinnereth? What moan of beasts?, muttering thunder of rebellion? from phantoms of |1longvanished tramping1| herds trooping to their place the river of |1oblivion Somnolence1|? Elk and yak, mammoth and mastodon, the bulls of Bashan and of Babylon, all tread atrampling, uttering their one long silent & universal roar.
All s passed
down to the sea of somnolence
|1behind
Baal the golden to
drink
|aunsateda|
|ain
witha| horrible gulpings that
inexhaustible and saline
flood1| and
lo the equine
portent
|1grew
grows1|
again, magnified in heaven, nay, to heaven's own magnitude till it looms
|1vast1|
over the ultimate
house of virgo. And lo! wonder of
{ms, 7}
metempsychosis,º it is she, the
everlasting bride, the bride, harbinger of the daystar, the bride,
|1the
ever virgin,1|
of — and
blank.
Martha & Millicent are her handmaids. How serene appears she now in the
antelucan hour, coifed with a web of what do you call it gossamer. It floats, it
flows about her starborn flesh, and loose it
streams and waves,
|1violet
sapphire, emerald,
heliotrope1| in the
cold currents of the
interstellar wind, winding
and, coiling,
|1in
streaming
its1| mysterious
caligraphy writing
until blank
{Section IX: MS NLI.11A-NLI.11B: U84 14.1110-1439}
{ms, 7}
Costelloº
was saying that he
had been to school with Stephen
|1and
years before
in Conmee's
time1| he asked
about many others where they were now. Neither knew.
Why think of
them,? Stephen said.
You have spoken of
the past. and its
phantoms. If I
|1have
not called shall
call1| them into life
across the waters of Lethe will the poor ghosts not troop to my call?
Who supposes it? I
|1Bous
Stephanoumenos1|
am the lord
|1and
giver1| of their life.
He laid a coronal of vineleaves on his disordered hair, smiling at his guests.
|1That
The1|
answer and
|1your
crown those
leaves1| will
|1fit
adorn
you1| better, said
Lynch
|1to
him1|, when something
more
|1and
greatly
more1| than a
|1mouthful
capful1|
of
|1airs
|alighta|
songs1| can call you
father. I say it with the hope of us all for we are your wellwishers that
moment hour crowns
you
|1royally
and
Stephen.1|
I heartily wish it
may. O no, Vincent, Lenehan said, laying his hand upon the
|1young
poet's shoulders shoulder near
him1|, have no fear
|1for
him1|. He could
not leave his mother
an orphan. The young man's face grew dark:
|1all
could see that is was sad for him to be
reminded of his
promise and of his
grief:1| he would have
answered
gone away
|1left
withdrawn
from1| the feast
|1perhaps1|
but had not
Lenehan, the noise
of voices allayed the smart. Madden had lost
|1money
five
sesterces1| on
Sceptre: so had Lenehan as he told them of the race.
|1The
flag fell and, huuh!
off,
scamper,1| The
mare ran out
freshly with O.
Madden up. She was leading
|1the
field1|
|1and
but1|
on the run home
in close order
Throwaway
outstripped her.
Then
|1all
hearts bounded, even Phyllis waved her
scarf1| all was lost.
A whacking
|1good
mount fine whip1|,
{ms, 8}
saidº he, is
W. Lane. Four winners
yesterday, as many today.
What rider is
like him? Put him astride a camel or
|1a
the1|
boisterous
buffalo and still the victory is his. Let us bear it
as was the Roman
wont. And yet, he
added sighed as he
turned towards them- —, poor Sceptre! She is not the filly that she was.
Never shall we
behold such another,
|1a
the1|
queen of them all. Do you remember her, Vincent? I wish you had seen my queen
today, the other answered.
|1So
radiant, so and
young, How young she was and
radiant1|, with her
tan shoes and her dress of muslin. I cannot tell the right name of it.
|1And,
O, her
Her1|
posies
|1too1|!
|1Mad
romp that she is she
had pulled her fill
as we lay
together.1| And
in your ear, my
friend, he said to Costello, you will not
guess imagine who
|1was
there to bless us when met us
as1| we came forth.
Conmee himself. The sweet creature turned all colours in her
confusion|1.
But he blessed us.,
|afeigning to compose some
slight disorder of her dress, a slip of undergrowth had attached itself there
for even the trees love
her.a|
|aand
when Whena| he
had passed
|aI
saw her shea|
glance at her lovely
|aimage
echoa| in the little mirror
she carries. |aShe saw
therea| But he was kind for
he had blessed us.1|
The gods
|1too1|
are ever kind, Lenehan said. If I cannot have luck with Bass's mare perhaps
I may find his
|1ale
mead1|
|1more
fortunate
serve
me more
propensely1|.
He was laying his hand
|1on
the upon
a1| winejar. Mulligan
saw it and withheld him. He pointed to the stranger, then to the scarlet label.
Be
|1Be
silent
Warily1|,
he said. The door to infinity may
be
|1Preserve
a druid silence1|
Sosimenes told me
so, Stephen answered. He
has The priests of Egypt
have
|1taught
him their initiated him into
the1| mysteries of
incarnation
|1when
he
was1|.
|1His
soul is far away.
|aIt
is as painful perhaps to be rudely awakened from a vision as to be
born.a| Any spot
|aof earth
|bif beheld intensely
enough,b|a|
may
|abe
the door to the immortality
|bopen
open & may give
accessb|a|
|ato
the incorruptible eon of the
gods.a|
Sleep.
He is far away.
immortality.
Do you not think
it, Stephen?1|
The lords of the
moon, Sosimenes told me, an
|1orangecoloured
orangetawny1|
shipload from planet alpha of the lunar chain refused to assume the etheric
doubles and these were therefore incarnated by
|1goldencoloured
rubycoloured1|
egos from the second constellation.º
{ms, 2}
Asº a matter of fact this
|1surmise
of Buck M's
which was due to a
misconception of
the most stupid description
|ahim being in a sort of
trancea|1| was
|1preposterous
&1| not the case
at all. The
individual,
whose visual organs were now
commencing to show
signs of life, was
as
astute
or astuter than
any living man and
anybody who
conjectured the
contrary would have discovered themselves
|1pretty
quickly1|
mistaken
|1pretty
quickly1|. For
the last two
minutes
|1or
so1| he had been
staring at the bottle which was in
front of him as it happened on the table
blank
and which
happened to be in front of him
|1|xSome
beer, bottled by Bass and Co at Burton on
Trentx|1| and was
|1certainly1|
calculated to
attract
|1the
anyone's1|
eye |1no
matter whom,1| on
account of its scarlet colour. He was
|1thinking
about some simply recollecting
|a2 or
3a|1| private
transactions of his own of which the
|1other1|
two
|1mutual
friends1| were
|1mutually1|
as innocent as the
babe unborn. Eventually, however,
|1both
their eyes met &1|
he perceiving that
the other was
|1trying
endeavouring1|
to help himself to the beer he involuntarily decided to help him himself and
accordingly
|1he1|
grasped the mediumsized recipient
|1which
contained the desire
required
|abeer
refreshmenta|1| and
made a capacious
hole in it by pouring a lot of it
|1out1|
with a considerable degree of attentiveness not to upset any of it about the place.
The debate which ensued was, in its scope and progress, an epitome of life.
The debaters were the keenest in the land. The theme they were engaged on was
the loftiest for debate. The common hall of Horne's house had never beheld an assembly so representative
{ms, 3}
andº so
varied. nor had the
old walls of that establishment ever heard a language so encyclopaedic.
Crotthers, from in
the striking highland garb,
|1his
face glowing with the briny airs of
Caledonia,1| sat
beside facing Lynch,
whose countenance bore already the signs of
premature vice
and preternatural cynicism. Below these at the foot of the board and on either
side of it the figure of Bannon in his traveller's kit contrasted finely
with the primrose elegance and easy manners of Malachi Roland St John Mulligan.
The chair of the resident himself stood vacant before the hearth but
|1beside
it on either
side1||1.
Next the Scotchman1|
was the place assigned to Costello, the eccentric
vagrant who while
|1opposite
to
beside1|
him in stolid silence sat
the the squat
|1form
person1|
of Madden of Thurles. Lastly at the head of the table was the young poet whose
found a refuge from his
labours of
pedagogy in the the convivial atmosphere of Socratic discussion while to right
and left of him were the
|1|adiverting
flippanta|1|
prognosticator of,
fresh from the hippodrome, and the indominatable wanderer, soiled with the dust
of conflicts and
sins stained with
the mire of
|1a
deep an
indelible1| dishonour,
but in whose heart no lure or peril or — or degradation could ever efface
the
|1voluptuous
image
|aimage
of her, for whose voluptuous favours a hundred gallants would have laid
down to
enjoy the
|bmemory
of a image
thatb|
voluptuous
female loveliness
which the pencil of Lafayette has preserved for posterity.a|1|
{ms, 4}
Itº had better be said here that the
point of view
transcendentalism to which Mr Stephen Dedalus' contentions would appear to
prove him
|1incurably1|
addicted runs
counter to
|1accepted1|
scientific methods. Science, it cannot be too often
|1said
repeated1|,
deals with phenomena. The man of science has to face hard facts and explain them
as best he can. There are, it is true, some questions which science cannot
answer — at present — like the
|1two
first1|
problems submitted by Mr Bloom as to
why one is born male or
female the problem played by sex in birth. Must we accept the
opinion of
|1Hippocrates
Empedocles
of Trinacria1|
that the right ovary
is responsible for the males or are the too long neglected
spermatozoa the
differentiating factors or is it
|1as the
more advanced embryologists
Lusk, Leopold,
Herschel, Valenti,
opine,1| a mixture of
both. The second problem raised by the same gentleman is even more vital: infant
mortality.
|1It is
interesting because, as he very pertinently remarks in this connection,
we are all born in
the same way but we all die in different
ways.1| Dr
Mulligan blames the hygienic conditions in which our
greylunged
citizens contract
adenoids,
pulmonary complaints, etcetera
|1from
by1|
inhaling germs that lurk in
dust. Dr
Crotthers attributes it to neglect whether private or official. Although the
former is undoubtedly true the case he mentions of
a
nurses forgetting to
remove the sponges from the peritoneal cavity is. An ingenious explanation
is offered by Mr Lynch that both natality & mortality like all other
phenomena tidal movements, lunar phases,
|1blood
temperature, diseases in
general,1| everything,
in fact, in nature's vast world from the
birth extinction of
{ms, 5}
aº
d remote sun to the
blossoming of one of the many flowers which beautify our parks is subject to a
law of number as
yet unascertained.
|1But
when we are faced with
But1|
the plain & straight question a child born of normal healthy parents and
apparently a healthy child and properly looked after unaccountably dies
|1in
early childhood or
youth1| (though other
children born of the same marriage do not)
then must certainly,
as the poet says,
|1gives
must
give1| us pause.
Nature, we may be sure, has her own good reasons for what she does & in all
probability these deaths are due to some
law of
anticipation by which organisms in which morbous
germs have taken up
their residence (science has now proved conclusively that only the plasmic
substance can be said to be immortal) tend to disappear at an increasingly early
stage of development, thereby securing
a survival of the
fittest. Mr Dedalus' remark that an omnivorous being which can
masticate, deglute, digest and apparently pass in the ordinary fashion aliments
|1such
so
various1| as
cancrenous females of middle age, pottlebellied solicitors
blank
might find a gastric relief in
|1a
an
innocent1| meal of
staggering bob reveals in a very unsavoury light the tendency alluded to above.
For the enlightenment of those who perhaps are not so intimately acquainted with
the secrets of the
|1civic1|
abattoir as this morbidminded esthete seems
{ms, 6}
toº be it should perhaps be stated
that staggering bob, in the vile jargon of our licensed victuallers, signifies
the flesh of a
dayold calf
newdropped from its mother. In a recent controversy with Mr Bloom he is reported
|1to
have as
having1| stated that
once a woman has let the cat into the bag she must let it out again
|1and
or1|
give it life
|1(as he
phrased it)1| to save
her own. At the risk of her own
was the
|1crushing1|
reply rejoinder,
none the less effective for the moderate tone in which it was delivered.
Meanwhile the skill and patience of the doctors had brought about a happy
accouchement.
|1missing1|
It had been a weary
weary while both for patient and physician. All that medical skill could do
was done and the
brave woman had manfully helped. She had. She had
fought the good
fight and now she was
very very happy.
Look at her as she reclines there in the first
bloom of her new
motherhood, breathing a quiet prayer of thanksgiving to the One above, the
Universal Husband.
And, as her loving eyes behold her babe, she wishes only one blessing more,
that her to have her
Fonsy there with her to
share her joy,
to lay in his arms the
fruit of their
lawful embraces. He is elderly now
|1and
something stooped in the
shoulders1|
and graver yet with
the progress of years a grave dignity has come to him.
No, Fonsy, loved one, it may never be again that far off
{ms, 7}
timeº of the roses.
She
With the old shake
of her pretty head she remembers those days.
God, how
beautiful now across the mist of years! But their children are there
|1in
imagination about her
bedside1|, hers and
his, Charley, Mary Alice, Frederick Albert (if he had lived), Mamie, Budgey
(Frances Mary), Tom, Violet Constance de Sales, darling little Bobsy (named
after our famous hero of South Africa,
|1lord1|
Bobs of Waterford and Candahar) and now this last. He will be christened
Mortimer Edward after the Mortimer family, the influential cousins of Mr
Purefoy. No, let no sigh break from that breast, dear
|1dear1|
Mina. And Fonsy,
knock the ashes from
your pipe, when
the curfew rings for you (may it be the distant day) and dout the light and so
with a tranquil heart to bed. You too have
fought the good
fight. Sir, to
you my hand. Well
done thou good and faithful servant.
Thereº are
sin
memories sins or let
us call them bitter memories which are hidden away
|1by
man1| in the darkest
places of the heart but they abide there & wait.
|1He
may suffer their memory to grow dim, let them be as though they had not
been, all but persuade himself that they were not or were other
wise1| A chance word
will call them forth and they will rise up to confront
{ms, 8}
himº in the most various scenes,
|1a
vision1| in some dream
or when the timbrel
and the harp soothe his cares, or amid the cool silver tranquility of
evening or at the feast at midnight when
he is now filled
with wine. Not for vengeance with the vision come
|1to
cut him off from the
living1|, not to
insult over him as
over one that lies
under her wrath but shrouded in the
|1pitiful
piteous1|
vesture of the
|1irretrievable1|
past, silent, serene, reproachful.
The stranger
|1still1|
regarded
|1on1|
the face before him
|1from
which a slow receding
of1| the false
serenity
|1there1|,
if imposed
|1as it
seemed1| by
habit or some
studied trick upon words and
acts so
im embittered as to
imply in the speaker an unhealthy sensitiveness, a flair, for the
|1grosser
cruder1|
things of life.
|1Two
scenes stood forth A scene
disengaged
itself1| in the
|1watcher's
observor's1|
memory. A lilac
garden. A bowling
green in Roundtown on a soft
|1July
June1|
evening,
|1quiet
save for the slow roll and brief shocks of the
pellets,1| the scent
of lilac from the sisterhood of trees
mingling fitly with
that other sisterhood of girls, Floey, Tiny, Atty and yet another
|1in
whose eyes and hair seem the product of a different, more southern
clime1|. A lad of four
or five in linseywoolsey of ripe damson is the
|1petted1|
centre of that
wellremembered
ring, a prattler even then, while by the grey urn beside the — a mother looks on.
{ms, 9}
º
{ms, 10}
Markº this farther. It comes suddenly. E Enter that antechamber of birth where the |1missing1| students are assembled and |1mark note1| their faces. Nothing, as it seems, there of rash or violent. Quietude |1of custody1| rather, befitting their stations in that |1house home1| of rest, the vigilant watch of shepherds |1and of angels1| on that holiest night about in Bethlehem's house of blank, long ago. But |1in the slumberous as before the lightning1| serried |1clouds stormclouds1|, heavy with ponderous excess of moisture, in swollen masses, turgidly distended, compass all the sky in one vast slumber, impending above |1drowsy parched1| field and drowsy cattle and blighted growth of shrub and verdure, till |1at the in an instant a1| flash the cloudburst rives their centres |1and1| with the reverberation of all heaven the |1rainfall cloudburst1| pours its torrent so |1in that room of quiet1| was the transformation |1|ain that room of quieta|1|, violent and instantaneous, upon the utterance of that word.
Burke's!
Out flings
my lord Stephen,
giving the cry, and a tag and bobtail of all there
|1after1|,
|1cockerels
cockerel1|,
jackanapes,
welcher, pilldoctor,
punctual Bloom
at heels, with a universal grabbing at headgear, ashplants,
|1Zermatt1|
alpenstocks, Panama hats and
what not. Nurse Callan, scandalised in the hallway,
{ms, 11}
cannotº stay them nor smiling
|1Dixon
surgeon1|
coming down from
with news of placentation ended
|1one
pound weight if a
miligramme1|. They
hark him on. The
door. It is open?
Ha. They are forth
tumultuous, off
for a minute's
race,
|1all
lustily legging
it,1| Burke's
of Denzille street
their ulterior
goal. Dixon follows,
giving them sharp
language, but
|1raps
out an oath1| on
with him. Bloom stays an instant with the nurse
|1to
press her hand and
send a good word to happy mother
unread
up there convalescent.
Doctor Diet and Doctor
Quiet1|.
|1Ha!
Ha!1|
Looks she not other
now? And all
being gone out he presses a willing hand and
|1in a
glance of1|
motherwit
whispers helping,
whispers he …
By The air without
is impregnated
with raindew
moisture,
|1celestial1|
life essence
|1celestial1|,
glistening on Dublin
stone there
|1under
rutilant
starshiny
coelum1|.
By heaven,
Alphonsus Purefoy,
thou hast done a
|1high
doughty1|
deed
|1and
no
botch1|!
Thou art
|1I
swear,1| the
notablest
remarkablest
generator in this
chaffering
all including most
farraginous chronicle! Art weighed down with thy toil, with butcher's bills
at home and ingots
(not thine!) at the countinghouse?
Pshaw, man! A
truce to threnes
|1and
.
Displode
thy1|
jeremies! What says Zarathustra?
Deine Kuh
Trübsal
melkest Du nun trinkst
Du die süsse Milch des Euters. The udder of abundance
displodes for
thee. Drink, man!, a
{ms, 12}
bellyful.º Mother's milk,
Purefoy, the milk of human
kindness kin, milk
too of those stars overhead, rutilant in thin rainvapour,
punch milk such as
those riotous fellows in the guzzling den are quaffing
{Section (X) epilogue: NLI.11B: U84 14.1440-end}
{ms, 12}
Allº off for a
|1beano
buster
|aarmstrong,
halloring down the
streeta|1|.
Where's the harm? All bonyfides here. Down to
Timothy of the
battered naggin.
|1|aLike
old Billio.a| Any
brollies in the
family?1|
Where the Henry
Neville's
Nevil's sawbones and
the old clo?
|1Sorra
one o me knows.1|
|1Hurrah
there, D—.1|
Dix?
|1Where's
Punch?1| He's all
right. Coming, so's Christmas. Come along.
|1Jesus,
see the1|
Guttersnipes
|1round
Dedalus1| yelling. O,
the drunken minister coming out of the maternity hospital.
Benedicat vos
omnipotens Deus, Pater et Filius.
A copper a A make
apiece, mister. The Denzille lane boys. Right, old Isaac, shove em out of the
|1way
light
then1|.
|1Hell,
blast you.
|aA
make, mister mister, A
makea|1| You join us,
sir. No
|1intrusion
hentrusion,
dear
sir1|.
|1Allee
samee
Lou
heap good man
allee samee
this
bunch1| En avant,
mes enfants! Fire away there,
number one on the
gun.
|1Thence
they advanced five
parasangs.1|
Burke's! Burke's!
|1Give
Tip1|
us a psalm, Steve!
|1|xSlattery's
Mounted footx|1|
|1No,1|
No, Mulligan.
|1Get
on. Shove
ahead.1|
Keep a watch on the
clock. Mulligan
Near chucking out time. Mulleygann! Hah?
The British
beatitudes. Ay. Ay. Tention. Proceed to nearest canteen (beatitudes!) and annex enemy's stores of
{ms, 13}
liquor.º March! Tramp, tramp
(beatitudes!),
amp, tramp. Beer,
beef, business, bibles, battleships, bulldogs, buggery and bishops. Amp
tramp. Beer,
beef, trample
the trample the bibles,
battleships
trample the trampeller. Keep
|1time
the millingtary
step1|.
Tramp for Slattery's
m Boosebox.
|1|xHere
we are again.x|1| Halt!
|1|xQuery.x|1|
Who's
standing
|1this
here do1|?
I'm the proud
possessor of fourpence.
|1Me
nantee
|achinky
salteea|.1|
Yours?
|1The1|
mead of our
fathers
|1for the
Ubermensch1|. Five
number ones, 2 Ardilauns, same
here. You, sir? Ginger cordial.
|1Chase
me, the cabby's
caudle.
|aBuckled,
he is.a| Know his
|acow
and kisses
donaa|?
|aLives
Digsa| near the Mater. Full
of a door. See her in her dishybilly.
|aPull down the blind,
love.a| Two Ardilauns, same
here. Got a fine pair of mutton pies, no
kid|a,
and a |bHer lay
me to restsb| And
hera|
anker of rum.
|aWhat ho, she
bumps!a|
Must be seen to be
believed.
|aYour
Hera| starving eyes &
allbeplastered neck,
|ayou
shea| stole my heart, O
gluepot.1| Absinthe
for me,
|1savee
|asavy
saveya|1|? Look
slippery. If you
fall don't wait to get up. Time, sir?
|1my
avuncular's got
mine.1| Ten to.
Winding his
ticker. Stopped short never to go again.
|1Well
Say1|,
Dix,
|1did
your bit?1|
|1How's
how's1|
all in Lapland?
— delivery.
|1Ha!1|
|1Divide
the spoils. Shove
|aaround
rounda| the
|abung
nappya|.1|
Here, Jock's your barley bree. My
tipple, thank
you. Here's to
us. Don't splash my new sit-in-ems.
|1|xA
caraway seed to carry
awayx|1| Every
cove for his gentry mort.
Venus Pandemos.
Les petites des
boulevards. A bold
bad girl from the town of Mullingar.
|1Tell
her I was axing at
her.1|
|1Hauding
Sara by the wame.1|
|1The
|aMe?a|
On the1| road to
Malahide.
|1Her
If
she1| who seduced me
had left but the name. Machree, Macruskeen.
|1What
do you want for ninepence
|xHealth! Hauding Sara by the
wame.x|1| Smutty Moll for a mattress jig.
{ms, 14}
Waiting?º Bet your boots on. Stunned like seeing |1as how1| no shiners is |1coming acoming1|. |1He've got chink, I seed three pound on him he said was hisn.1| |1We Us1| come right in on your invite, see? Out with the oof. Two bar and a wing. You learn that of the |1Frenchies Frenchy bamboozlers1|. |1Won't wash for nuts.1| Lil child velly solly. I'se the most cutest coon down |1this our1| side. God's truth|1!, Charley.1| We are nae fou.We're nae the fou. Voilà!
'Tis, sure
|1tight1|.
What say? Lyon
Bantam
|1the
teetee1|
in the speakeasy. Go to God. Have a
|1peep
glint1|,
do. Well, I'm damned.
|1Too
full for words1|
With a railway porter.
Look at his
flowers. O Gemini, he's going to sing.
|1The
My1|
colleen bawn.
|1Open
his boots. O,
cheese it. Shut
his Dutch oven
with a firm hand.1| He
had the winner, tip from the
stable.
The ruffin cly the
nab of Stephen Hand as
give me the
|1blasted1|
capa copaleen
|1for a
dead
cert1|. He
|1meet
strike1|
a
|1telegraph
telegram1|
boy stable wire
to Ba
from Bass to the
depot. Tip him a joey and grahamise see. Mare
|1filly1|
fit.
|1Tell
a cram, that.1|
Criminal diversion
land him in
|1sorrowful
tail.
chokey
|aif the peelers cotched
him.a|1|
|1if
the harman beck
copped the do. O, lust, our refuge and our
strength.1| Off he
pops |1to
mammy1|.
|1Come
a home, our
Bantam.
|aMind
his cowslips. Dinna forget
ye the
cowslips for
hersel.a|1| Hide my
blushes, someone. If he spots
|1me1|
I'm do
he'll do me in.
I'm all in. Confide. Who
|1gave
tipped1|
you the winner?
|1Me?
Garn.1|
No kid, young un. Honest injun.
{ms, 15}
Shiverº
my timbers if I
had. Vel,
|1I
reckon1| if that
beent a sheeny
|1bilker1|
nachez, vel, I vil
|1get &S
|1]|7]ao&brigmeela1|.
And us pals, me and him.
|1Though
yerd, our lord. Amen.1|
You move a motion? Steve boy, you're going it some. |1Dinna fret, a drappie man. Hoots, mon, a |aweea| drap to prie1| All serene. Absinthe for the lot. No squeaking. Right. Rome boose for the gent. |1Landlord, landlord, have you good wine, Staboo?1| Hi! Where's the Buck and |1Tivy1| Bannon? |1Skunked off.1| Crikey, I'm about sprung. Tarnally dog gone my shins if this ain't the |1bestest1| puttiest chance yet. |1Thrust syphilis down to hell & with those other wicked spirits who wander through the world.1| A la votre!
Golly. Who in tunket's that in the mackintosh? What's he got? Jubilee mutton. Bovril, by James. Wants it |1real1| bad. Bare socks. D'ye ken bare socks? |1Seedy cuss in the1| The Richmond, rather. Thought he has a deposit of lead in his penis. |1Trumpery insanity.1| Bartle the bread we calls him. |1Off with his tuck. Tuck & turn in.1| Schedule time, gents. Nix for the polis. Pardon? Seen him at a runefal? Chum of o yourn passed in his checks! |1Thou'llt not tell me so, Bloom Pold veg? Ludamassy!1| |1Was Did1| ums |1weeps weep big1| splash |1tears crytears1| cos frien |1Pat Padney1| was took off in black bag? Of all de |1niggers darkies1| massa |1Pat1| was |1verra1| best |1bar none1|. Never see de like since I was born. Time, all. |1Get ye gone.1| Night. Night
Hark! Pflaap! Pflaap!
|1Fire
|aBlazes
Blazea|1| somewhere.
Cut
|1down
Denzille lane up Mount
street1|. Plaaaap! You
not come? Percutiam pastorem. Pflaap! Run and run.
{ms, 16}
Lynchº with me. Down Denzille lane.
We two, she said, will
seek the kips, where the lady Mary is.
|1Laetabuntur
in cubilibus
suis.1| You coming
with, sir? Whipser,
|1who's
who the
sooty
hell1| this Johnny
|1hanging
on to us1| in the
black duds?
f For, he hath
sinned against the
light and, lo, that day is
|1come
now1|
wherein he shall come to judge the world with fire.
See ut implerentur
scripturae. Christ, what's this yellow excrementitious
|1gospeller1|
on the Metropolitan Hall? Elijah is coming. All are washed in the blood of the
lamb. Alexander J Dowie, that's my name
|1that's
yanked to glory
most half the
States1|.
Shout salvation in
King Jesus! The
deity aint no
bumshow.
|1He's
I
put him to you
as1| a
business
proposition. Come on, you
winefizzling,
ginsizzling, booseguzzling existences!
Come on, you
bullnecked beetlebrowed, hogjowled, peanut brained weaseleyed fourflushers,
false alarms & excess baggage.
|1and a
corking fine
business
proposition.1|