Joyce's Ulysses Concordance

10. Wandering Rocks

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[10304][ 10 ]

[10305]

[10306]The superior, the very reverend John Conmee S. J. reset his smooth watch

[10307]in his interior pocket as he came down the presbytery steps. Five to

[10308]three. Just nice time to walk to Artane. What was that boy’s name

[10309]again? Dignam. Yes. Vere dignum et iustum est. Brother Swan was the

[10310]person to see. Mr Cunningham’s letter. Yes. Oblige him, if possible.

[10311]Good practical catholic: useful at mission time.

[10312]

[10313]A onelegged sailor, swinging himself onward by lazy jerks of his

[10314]crutches, growled some notes. He jerked short before the convent of the

[10315]sisters of charity and held out a peaked cap for alms towards the very

[10316]reverend John Conmee S. J. Father Conmee blessed him in the sun for his

[10317]purse held, he knew, one silver crown.

[10318]

[10319]Father Conmee crossed to Mountjoy square. He thought, but not for long,

[10320]of soldiers and sailors, whose legs had been shot off by cannonballs,

[10321]ending their days in some pauper ward, and of cardinal Wolsey’s

[10322]words: If I had served my God as I have served my king He would not have

[10323]abandoned me in my old days. He walked by the treeshade of sunnywinking

[10324]leaves: and towards him came the wife of Mr David Sheehy M.P.

[10325]

[10326]—Very well, indeed, father. And you, father?

[10327]

[10328]Father Conmee was wonderfully well indeed. He would go to Buxton

[10329]probably for the waters. And her boys, were they getting on well at

[10330]Belvedere? Was that so? Father Conmee was very glad indeed to hear that.

[10331]And Mr Sheehy himself? Still in London. The house was still sitting, to

[10332]be sure it was. Beautiful weather it was, delightful indeed. Yes, it was

[10333]very probable that Father Bernard Vaughan would come again to preach. O,

[10334]yes: a very great success. A wonderful man really.

[10335]

[10336]Father Conmee was very glad to see the wife of Mr David Sheehy M.P.

[10337]Iooking so well and he begged to be remembered to Mr David Sheehy M.P.

[10338]Yes, he would certainly call.

[10339]

[10340]—Good afternoon, Mrs Sheehy.

[10341]

[10342]Father Conmee doffed his silk hat and smiled, as he took leave, at the

[10343]jet beads of her mantilla inkshining in the sun. And smiled yet again,

[10344]in going. He had cleaned his teeth, he knew, with arecanut paste.

[10345]

[10346]Father Conmee walked and, walking, smiled for he thought on Father

[10347]Bernard Vaughan’s droll eyes and cockney voice.

[10348]

[10349]—Pilate! Wy don’t you old back that owlin mob?

[10350]

[10351]A zealous man, however. Really he was. And really did great good in his

[10352]way. Beyond a doubt. He loved Ireland, he said, and he loved the Irish.

[10353]Of good family too would one think it? Welsh, were they not?

[10354]

[10355]O, lest he forget. That letter to father provincial.

[10356]

[10357]Father Conmee stopped three little schoolboys at the corner of Mountjoy

[10358]square. Yes: they were from Belvedere. The little house. Aha. And were

[10359]they good boys at school? O. That was very good now. And what was his

[10360]name? Jack Sohan. And his name? Ger. Gallaher. And the other little man?

[10361]His name was Brunny Lynam. O, that was a very nice name to have.

[10362]

[10363]Father Conmee gave a letter from his breast to Master Brunny Lynam and

[10364]pointed to the red pillarbox at the corner of Fitzgibbon street.

[10365]

[10366]—But mind you don’t post yourself into the box, little man, he said.

[10367]

[10368]The boys sixeyed Father Conmee and laughed:

[10369]

[10370]—O, sir.

[10371]

[10372]—Well, let me see if you can post a letter, Father Conmee said.

[10373]

[10374]Master Brunny Lynam ran across the road and put Father Conmee’s letter

[10375]to father provincial into the mouth of the bright red letterbox. Father

[10376]Conmee smiled and nodded and smiled and walked along Mountjoy square

[10377]east.

[10378]

[10379]Mr Denis J Maginni, professor of dancing &c, in silk hat, slate

[10380]frockcoat with silk facings, white kerchief tie, tight lavender

[10381]trousers, canary gloves and pointed patent boots, walking with grave

[10382]deportment most respectfully took the curbstone as he passed lady

[10383]Maxwell at the corner of Dignam’s court.

[10384]

[10385]Was that not Mrs M’Guinness?

[10386]

[10387]Mrs M’Guinness, stately, silverhaired, bowed to Father Conmee from the

[10388]farther footpath along which she sailed. And Father Conmee smiled and

[10389]saluted. How did she do?

[10390]

[10391]A fine carriage she had. Like Mary, queen of Scots, something. And to

[10392]think that she was a pawnbroker! Well, now! Such a... what should he

[10393]say?... such a queenly mien.

[10394]

[10395]Father Conmee walked down Great Charles street and glanced at the shutup

[10396]free church on his left. The reverend T. R. Greene B.A. will (D.V.)

[10397]speak. The incumbent they called him. He felt it incumbent on him to say

[10398]a few words. But one should be charitable. Invincible ignorance. They

[10399]acted according to their lights.

[10400]

[10401]Father Conmee turned the corner and walked along the North Circular

[10402]road. It was a wonder that there was not a tramline in such an important

[10403]thoroughfare. Surely, there ought to be.

[10404]

[10405]A band of satchelled schoolboys crossed from Richmond street. All

[10406]raised untidy caps. Father Conmee greeted them more than once benignly.

[10407]Christian brother boys.

[10408]

[10409]Father Conmee smelt incense on his right hand as he walked. Saint

[10410]Joseph’s church, Portland row. For aged and virtuous females.

[10411]Father Conmee raised his hat to the Blessed Sacrament. Virtuous: but

[10412]occasionally they were also badtempered.

[10413]

[10414]Near Aldborough house Father Conmee thought of that spendthrift

[10415]nobleman. And now it was an office or something.

[10416]

[10417]Father Conmee began to walk along the North Strand road and was saluted

[10418]by Mr William Gallagher who stood in the doorway of his shop. Father

[10419]Conmee saluted Mr William Gallagher and perceived the odours that came

[10420]from baconflitches and ample cools of butter. He passed Grogan’s

[10421]the Tobacconist against which newsboards leaned and told of a dreadful

[10422]catastrophe in New York. In America those things were continually

[10423]happening. Unfortunate people to die like that, unprepared. Still, an

[10424]act of perfect contrition.

[10425]

[10426]Father Conmee went by Daniel Bergin’s publichouse against the window

[10427]of which two unlabouring men lounged. They saluted him and were saluted.

[10428]

[10429]Father Conmee passed H. J. O’Neill’s funeral establishment where

[10430]Corny Kelleher totted figures in the daybook while he chewed a blade

[10431]of hay. A constable on his beat saluted Father Conmee and Father Conmee

[10432]saluted the constable. In Youkstetter’s, the porkbutcher’s, Father

[10433]Conmee observed pig’s puddings, white and black and red, lie neatly

[10434]curled in tubes.

[10435]

[10436]Moored under the trees of Charleville Mall Father Conmee saw a

[10437]turfbarge, a towhorse with pendent head, a bargeman with a hat of dirty

[10438]straw seated amidships, smoking and staring at a branch of poplar above

[10439]him. It was idyllic: and Father Conmee reflected on the providence of

[10440]the Creator who had made turf to be in bogs whence men might dig it

[10441]out and bring it to town and hamlet to make fires in the houses of poor

[10442]people.

[10443]

[10444]On Newcomen bridge the very reverend John Conmee S. J. of saint Francis

[10445]Xavier’s church, upper Gardiner street, stepped on to an outward bound

[10446]tram.

[10447]

[10448]Off an inward bound tram stepped the reverend Nicholas Dudley C. C. of

[10449]saint Agatha’s church, north William street, on to Newcomen bridge.

[10450]

[10451]At Newcomen bridge Father Conmee stepped into an outward bound tram for

[10452]he disliked to traverse on foot the dingy way past Mud Island.

[10453]

[10454]Father Conmee sat in a corner of the tramcar, a blue ticket tucked with

[10455]care in the eye of one plump kid glove, while four shillings, a sixpence

[10456]and five pennies chuted from his other plump glovepalm into his purse.

[10457]Passing the ivy church he reflected that the ticket inspector usually

[10458]made his visit when one had carelessly thrown away the ticket. The

[10459]solemnity of the occupants of the car seemed to Father Conmee excessive

[10460]for a journey so short and cheap. Father Conmee liked cheerful decorum.

[10461]

[10462]It was a peaceful day. The gentleman with the glasses opposite Father

[10463]Conmee had finished explaining and looked down. His wife, Father Conmee

[10464]supposed. A tiny yawn opened the mouth of the wife of the gentleman with

[10465]the glasses. She raised her small gloved fist, yawned ever so gently,

[10466]tiptapping her small gloved fist on her opening mouth and smiled tinily,

[10467]sweetly.

[10468]

[10469]Father Conmee perceived her perfume in the car. He perceived also that

[10470]the awkward man at the other side of her was sitting on the edge of the

[10471]seat.

[10472]

[10473]Father Conmee at the altarrails placed the host with difficulty in the

[10474]mouth of the awkward old man who had the shaky head.

[10475]

[10476]At Annesley bridge the tram halted and, when it was about to go, an old

[10477]woman rose suddenly from her place to alight. The conductor pulled the

[10478]bellstrap to stay the car for her. She passed out with her basket and

[10479]a marketnet: and Father Conmee saw the conductor help her and net and

[10480]basket down: and Father Conmee thought that, as she had nearly passed

[10481]the end of the penny fare, she was one of those good souls who had

[10482]always to be told twice bless you, my child, that they have been

[10483]absolved, pray for me. But they had so many worries in life, so many

[10484]cares, poor creatures.

[10485]

[10486]From the hoardings Mr Eugene Stratton grimaced with thick niggerlips at

[10487]Father Conmee.

[10488]

[10489]Father Conmee thought of the souls of black and brown and yellow men and

[10490]of his sermon on saint Peter Claver S. J. and the African mission and of

[10491]the propagation of the faith and of the millions of black and brown and

[10492]yellow souls that had not received the baptism of water when their last

[10493]hour came like a thief in the night. That book by the Belgian jesuit, Le

[10494]Nombre des Élus, seemed to Father Conmee a reasonable plea. Those were

[10495]millions of human souls created by God in His Own likeness to whom the

[10496]faith had not (D.V.) been brought. But they were God’s souls, created

[10497]by God. It seemed to Father Conmee a pity that they should all be lost,

[10498]a waste, if one might say.

[10499]

[10500]At the Howth road stop Father Conmee alighted, was saluted by the

[10501]conductor and saluted in his turn.

[10502]

[10503]The Malahide road was quiet. It pleased Father Conmee, road and name.

[10504]The joybells were ringing in gay Malahide. Lord Talbot de Malahide,

[10505]immediate hereditary lord admiral of Malahide and the seas adjoining.

[10506]Then came the call to arms and she was maid, wife and widow in one day.

[10507]Those were old worldish days, loyal times in joyous townlands, old times

[10508]in the barony.

[10509]

[10510]Father Conmee, walking, thought of his little book Old Times in the

[10511]Barony and of the book that might be written about jesuit houses and of

[10512]Mary Rochfort, daughter of lord Molesworth, first countess of Belvedere.

[10513]

[10514]A listless lady, no more young, walked alone the shore of lough Ennel,

[10515]Mary, first countess of Belvedere, listlessly walking in the evening,

[10516]not startled when an otter plunged. Who could know the truth? Not the

[10517]jealous lord Belvedere and not her confessor if she had not committed

[10518]adultery fully, eiaculatio seminis inter vas naturale mulieris, with her

[10519]husband’s brother? She would half confess if she had not all sinned as

[10520]women did. Only God knew and she and he, her husband’s brother.

[10521]

[10522]Father Conmee thought of that tyrannous incontinence, needed however for

[10523]man’s race on earth, and of the ways of God which were not our ways.

[10524]

[10525]Don John Conmee walked and moved in times of yore. He was humane and

[10526]honoured there. He bore in mind secrets confessed and he smiled at

[10527]smiling noble faces in a beeswaxed drawingroom, ceiled with full fruit

[10528]clusters. And the hands of a bride and of a bridegroom, noble to noble,

[10529]were impalmed by Don John Conmee.

[10530]

[10531]It was a charming day.

[10532]

[10533]The lychgate of a field showed Father Conmee breadths of cabbages,

[10534]curtseying to him with ample underleaves. The sky showed him a flock

[10535]of small white clouds going slowly down the wind. Moutonner, the French

[10536]said. A just and homely word.

[10537]

[10538]Father Conmee, reading his office, watched a flock of muttoning clouds

[10539]over Rathcoffey. His thinsocked ankles were tickled by the stubble of

[10540]Clongowes field. He walked there, reading in the evening, and heard

[10541]the cries of the boys’ lines at their play, young cries in the quiet

[10542]evening. He was their rector: his reign was mild.

[10543]

[10544]Father Conmee drew off his gloves and took his rededged breviary out. An

[10545]ivory bookmark told him the page.

[10546]

[10547]Nones. He should have read that before lunch. But lady Maxwell had come.

[10548]

[10549]Father Conmee read in secret Pater and Ave and crossed his breast. Deus

[10550]in adiutorium.

[10551]

[10552]He walked calmly and read mutely the nones, walking and reading till he

[10553]came to Res in Beati immaculati: Principium verborum tuorum veritas: in

[10554]eternum omnia iudicia iustitiæ tuæ.

[10555]

[10556]A flushed young man came from a gap of a hedge and after him came a

[10557]young woman with wild nodding daisies in her hand. The young man raised

[10558]his cap abruptly: the young woman abruptly bent and with slow care

[10559]detached from her light skirt a clinging twig.

[10560]

[10561]Father Conmee blessed both gravely and turned a thin page of his

[10562]breviary. Sin: Principes persecuti sunt me gratis: et a verbis tuis

[10563]formidavit cor meum.

[10564]

[10565]Corny Kelleher closed his long daybook and glanced with his drooping eye

[10566]at a pine coffinlid sentried in a corner. He pulled himself erect,

[10567]went to it and, spinning it on its axle, viewed its shape and brass

[10568]furnishings. Chewing his blade of hay he laid the coffinlid by and came

[10569]to the doorway. There he tilted his hatbrim to give shade to his eyes

[10570]and leaned against the doorcase, looking idly out.

[10571]

[10572]Father John Conmee stepped into the Dollymount tram on Newcomen bridge.

[10573]

[10574]Corny Kelleher locked his largefooted boots and gazed, his hat

[10575]downtilted, chewing his blade of hay.

[10576]

[10577]Constable 57C, on his beat, stood to pass the time of day.

[10578]

[10579]—That’s a fine day, Mr Kelleher.

[10580]

[10581]—Ay, Corny Kelleher said.

[10582]

[10583]—It’s very close, the constable said.

[10584]

[10585]Corny Kelleher sped a silent jet of hayjuice arching from his mouth

[10586]while a generous white arm from a window in Eccles street flung forth a

[10587]coin.

[10588]

[10589]—What’s the best news? he asked.

[10590]

[10591]—I seen that particular party last evening, the constable said with

[10592]bated breath.

[10593]

[10594]A onelegged sailor crutched himself round MacConnell’s corner,

[10595]skirting Rabaiotti’s icecream car, and jerked himself up Eccles

[10596]street. Towards Larry O’Rourke, in shirtsleeves in his doorway, he

[10597]growled unamiably:

[10598]

[10599]—For England...

[10600]

[10601]He swung himself violently forward past Katey and Boody Dedalus, halted

[10602]and growled:

[10603]

[10604]—home and beauty.

[10605]

[10606]J. J. O’Molloy’s white careworn face was told that Mr Lambert was in

[10607]the warehouse with a visitor.

[10608]

[10609]A stout lady stopped, took a copper coin from her purse and dropped it

[10610]into the cap held out to her. The sailor grumbled thanks, glanced sourly

[10611]at the unheeding windows, sank his head and swung himself forward four

[10612]strides.

[10613]

[10614]He halted and growled angrily:

[10615]

[10616]—For England...

[10617]

[10618]Two barefoot urchins, sucking long liquorice laces, halted near him,

[10619]gaping at his stump with their yellowslobbered mouths.

[10620]

[10621]He swung himself forward in vigorous jerks, halted, lifted his head

[10622]towards a window and bayed deeply:

[10623]

[10624]—home and beauty.

[10625]

[10626]The gay sweet chirping whistling within went on a bar or two, ceased.

[10627]The blind of the window was drawn aside. A card Unfurnished Apartments

[10628]slipped from the sash and fell. A plump bare generous arm shone, was

[10629]seen, held forth from a white petticoatbodice and taut shiftstraps. A

[10630]woman’s hand flung forth a coin over the area railings. It fell on the

[10631]path.

[10632]

[10633]One of the urchins ran to it, picked it up and dropped it into the

[10634]minstrel’s cap, saying:

[10635]

[10636]—There, sir.

[10637]

[10638]Katey and Boody Dedalus shoved in the door of the closesteaming kitchen.

[10639]

[10640]—Did you put in the books? Boody asked.

[10641]

[10642]Maggy at the range rammed down a greyish mass beneath bubbling suds

[10643]twice with her potstick and wiped her brow.

[10644]

[10645]—They wouldn’t give anything on them, she said.

[10646]

[10647]Father Conmee walked through Clongowes fields, his thinsocked ankles

[10648]tickled by stubble.

[10649]

[10650]—Where did you try? Boody asked.

[10651]

[10652]—M’Guinness’s.

[10653]

[10654]Boody stamped her foot and threw her satchel on the table.

[10655]

[10656]—Bad cess to her big face! she cried.

[10657]

[10658]Katey went to the range and peered with squinting eyes.

[10659]

[10660]—What’s in the pot? she asked.

[10661]

[10662]—Shirts, Maggy said.

[10663]

[10664]Boody cried angrily:

[10665]

[10666]—Crickey, is there nothing for us to eat?

[10667]

[10668]Katey, lifting the kettlelid in a pad of her stained skirt, asked:

[10669]

[10670]—And what’s in this?

[10671]

[10672]A heavy fume gushed in answer.

[10673]

[10674]—Peasoup, Maggy said.

[10675]

[10676]—Where did you get it? Katey asked.

[10677]

[10678]—Sister Mary Patrick, Maggy said.

[10679]

[10680]The lacquey rang his bell.

[10681]

[10682]—Barang!

[10683]

[10684]Boody sat down at the table and said hungrily:

[10685]

[10686]—Give us it here.

[10687]

[10688]Maggy poured yellow thick soup from the kettle into a bowl. Katey,

[10689]sitting opposite Boody, said quietly, as her fingertip lifted to her

[10690]mouth random crumbs:

[10691]

[10692]—A good job we have that much. Where’s Dilly?

[10693]

[10694]—Gone to meet father, Maggy said.

[10695]

[10696]Boody, breaking big chunks of bread into the yellow soup, added:

[10697]

[10698]—Our father who art not in heaven.

[10699]

[10700]Maggy, pouring yellow soup in Katey’s bowl, exclaimed:

[10701]

[10702]—Boody! For shame!

[10703]

[10704]A skiff, a crumpled throwaway, Elijah is coming, rode lightly down the

[10705]Liffey, under Loopline bridge, shooting the rapids where water chafed

[10706]around the bridgepiers, sailing eastward past hulls and anchorchains,

[10707]between the Customhouse old dock and George’s quay.

[10708]

[10709]The blond girl in Thornton’s bedded the wicker basket with rustling

[10710]fibre. Blazes Boylan handed her the bottle swathed in pink tissue paper

[10711]and a small jar.

[10712]

[10713]—Put these in first, will you? he said.

[10714]

[10715]—Yes, sir, the blond girl said. And the fruit on top.

[10716]

[10717]—That’ll do, game ball, Blazes Boylan said.

[10718]

[10719]She bestowed fat pears neatly, head by tail, and among them ripe

[10720]shamefaced peaches.

[10721]

[10722]Blazes Boylan walked here and there in new tan shoes about the

[10723]fruitsmelling shop, lifting fruits, young juicy crinkled and plump red

[10724]tomatoes, sniffing smells.

[10725]

[10726]H. E. L. Y.’S filed before him, tallwhitehatted, past Tangier lane,

[10727]plodding towards their goal.

[10728]

[10729]He turned suddenly from a chip of strawberries, drew a gold watch from

[10730]his fob and held it at its chain’s length.

[10731]

[10732]—Can you send them by tram? Now?

[10733]

[10734]A darkbacked figure under Merchants’ arch scanned books on the

[10735]hawker’s cart.

[10736]

[10737]—Certainly, sir. Is it in the city?

[10738]

[10739]—O, yes, Blazes Boylan said. Ten minutes.

[10740]

[10741]The blond girl handed him a docket and pencil.

[10742]

[10743]—Will you write the address, sir?

[10744]

[10745]Blazes Boylan at the counter wrote and pushed the docket to her.

[10746]

[10747]—Send it at once, will you? he said. It’s for an invalid.

[10748]

[10749]—Yes, sir. I will, sir.

[10750]

[10751]Blazes Boylan rattled merry money in his trousers’ pocket.

[10752]

[10753]—What’s the damage? he asked.

[10754]

[10755]The blond girl’s slim fingers reckoned the fruits.

[10756]

[10757]Blazes Boylan looked into the cut of her blouse. A young pullet. He took

[10758]a red carnation from the tall stemglass.

[10759]

[10760]—This for me? he asked gallantly.

[10761]

[10762]The blond girl glanced sideways at him, got up regardless, with his tie

[10763]a bit crooked, blushing.

[10764]

[10765]—Yes, sir, she said.

[10766]

[10767]Bending archly she reckoned again fat pears and blushing peaches.

[10768]

[10769]Blazes Boylan looked in her blouse with more favour, the stalk of the

[10770]red flower between his smiling teeth.

[10771]

[10772]—May I say a word to your telephone, missy? he asked roguishly.

[10773]

[10774]—Ma! Almidano Artifoni said.

[10775]

[10776]He gazed over Stephen’s shoulder at Goldsmith’s knobby poll.

[10777]

[10778]Two carfuls of tourists passed slowly, their women sitting fore,

[10779]gripping the handrests. Palefaces. Men’s arms frankly round their

[10780]stunted forms. They looked from Trinity to the blind columned porch of

[10781]the bank of Ireland where pigeons roocoocooed.

[10782]

[10783]—Anch’io ho avuto di queste idee, Almidano Artifoni said, quand’

[10784]ero giovine come Lei. Eppoi mi sono convinto che il mondo è una bestia.

[10785]È peccato. Perchè la sua voce... sarebbe un cespite di rendita, via.

[10786]Invece, Lei si sacrifica.

[10787]

[10788]—Sacrifizio incruento, Stephen said smiling, swaying his ashplant in

[10789]slow swingswong from its midpoint, lightly.

[10790]

[10791]—Speriamo, the round mustachioed face said pleasantly. Ma, dia retta a

[10792]me. Ci rifletta.

[10793]

[10794]By the stern stone hand of Grattan, bidding halt, an Inchicore tram

[10795]unloaded straggling Highland soldiers of a band.

[10796]

[10797]—Ci rifletterò, Stephen said, glancing down the solid trouserleg.

[10798]

[10799]—Ma, sul serio, eh? Almidano Artifoni said.

[10800]

[10801]His heavy hand took Stephen’s firmly. Human eyes. They gazed curiously

[10802]an instant and turned quickly towards a Dalkey tram.

[10803]

[10804]—Eccolo, Almidano Artifoni said in friendly haste. Venga a trovarmi e

[10805]ci pensi. Addio, caro.

[10806]

[10807]—Arrivederla, maestro, Stephen said, raising his hat when his hand was

[10808]freed. E grazie.

[10809]

[10810]—Di che? Almidano Artifoni said. Scusi, eh? Tante belle cose!

[10811]

[10812]Almidano Artifoni, holding up a baton of rolled music as a signal,

[10813]trotted on stout trousers after the Dalkey tram. In vain he trotted,

[10814]signalling in vain among the rout of barekneed gillies smuggling

[10815]implements of music through Trinity gates.

[10816]

[10817]Miss Dunne hid the Capel street library copy of The Woman in White

[10818]far back in her drawer and rolled a sheet of gaudy notepaper into her

[10819]typewriter.

[10820]

[10821]Too much mystery business in it. Is he in love with that one, Marion?

[10822]Change it and get another by Mary Cecil Haye.

[10823]

[10824]The disk shot down the groove, wobbled a while, ceased and ogled them:

[10825]six.

[10826]

[10827]Miss Dunne clicked on the keyboard:

[10828]

[10829]—16 June 1904.

[10830]

[10831]Five tallwhitehatted sandwichmen between Monypeny’s corner and the

[10832]slab where Wolfe Tone’s statue was not, eeled themselves turning H. E.

[10833]L. Y.’S and plodded back as they had come.

[10834]

[10835]Then she stared at the large poster of Marie Kendall, charming

[10836]soubrette, and, listlessly lolling, scribbled on the jotter sixteens and

[10837]capital esses. Mustard hair and dauby cheeks. She’s not nicelooking,

[10838]is she? The way she’s holding up her bit of a skirt. Wonder will that

[10839]fellow be at the band tonight. If I could get that dressmaker to make a

[10840]concertina skirt like Susy Nagle’s. They kick out grand. Shannon and

[10841]all the boatclub swells never took his eyes off her. Hope to goodness he

[10842]won’t keep me here till seven.

[10843]

[10844]The telephone rang rudely by her ear.

[10845]

[10846]—Hello. Yes, sir. No, sir. Yes, sir. I’ll ring them up after five.

[10847]Only those two, sir, for Belfast and Liverpool. All right, sir. Then

[10848]I can go after six if you’re not back. A quarter after. Yes, sir.

[10849]Twentyseven and six. I’ll tell him. Yes: one, seven, six.

[10850]

[10851]She scribbled three figures on an envelope.

[10852]

[10853]—Mr Boylan! Hello! That gentleman from Sport was in looking for you.

[10854]Mr Lenehan, yes. He said he’ll be in the Ormond at four. No, sir. Yes,

[10855]sir. I’ll ring them up after five.

[10856]

[10857]Two pink faces turned in the flare of the tiny torch.

[10858]

[10859]—Who’s that? Ned Lambert asked. Is that Crotty?

[10860]

[10861]—Ringabella and Crosshaven, a voice replied groping for foothold.

[10862]

[10863]—Hello, Jack, is that yourself? Ned Lambert said, raising in salute

[10864]his pliant lath among the flickering arches. Come on. Mind your steps

[10865]there.

[10866]

[10867]The vesta in the clergyman’s uplifted hand consumed itself in a long

[10868]soft flame and was let fall. At their feet its red speck died: and

[10869]mouldy air closed round them.

[10870]

[10871]—How interesting! a refined accent said in the gloom.

[10872]

[10873]—Yes, sir, Ned Lambert said heartily. We are standing in the historic

[10874]council chamber of saint Mary’s abbey where silken Thomas proclaimed

[10875]himself a rebel in 1534. This is the most historic spot in all Dublin.

[10876]O’Madden Burke is going to write something about it one of these days.

[10877]The old bank of Ireland was over the way till the time of the union

[10878]and the original jews’ temple was here too before they built their

[10879]synagogue over in Adelaide road. You were never here before, Jack, were

[10880]you?

[10881]

[10882]—No, Ned.

[10883]

[10884]—He rode down through Dame walk, the refined accent said, if my memory

[10885]serves me. The mansion of the Kildares was in Thomas court.

[10886]

[10887]—That’s right, Ned Lambert said. That’s quite right, sir.

[10888]

[10889]—If you will be so kind then, the clergyman said, the next time to

[10890]allow me perhaps...

[10891]

[10892]—Certainly, Ned Lambert said. Bring the camera whenever you like.

[10893]I’ll get those bags cleared away from the windows. You can take it

[10894]from here or from here.

[10895]

[10896]In the still faint light he moved about, tapping with his lath the piled

[10897]seedbags and points of vantage on the floor.

[10898]

[10899]From a long face a beard and gaze hung on a chessboard.

[10900]

[10901]—I’m deeply obliged, Mr Lambert, the clergyman said. I won’t

[10902]trespass on your valuable time...

[10903]

[10904]—You’re welcome, sir, Ned Lambert said. Drop in whenever you like.

[10905]Next week, say. Can you see?

[10906]

[10907]—Yes, yes. Good afternoon, Mr Lambert. Very pleased to have met you.

[10908]

[10909]—Pleasure is mine, sir, Ned Lambert answered.

[10910]

[10911]He followed his guest to the outlet and then whirled his lath away among

[10912]the pillars. With J. J. O’Molloy he came forth slowly into Mary’s

[10913]abbey where draymen were loading floats with sacks of carob and palmnut

[10914]meal, O’Connor, Wexford.

[10915]

[10916]He stood to read the card in his hand.

[10917]

[10918]—The reverend Hugh C. Love, Rathcoffey. Present address: Saint

[10919]Michael’s, Sallins. Nice young chap he is. He’s writing a book about

[10920]the Fitzgeralds he told me. He’s well up in history, faith.

[10921]

[10922]The young woman with slow care detached from her light skirt a clinging

[10923]twig.

[10924]

[10925]—I thought you were at a new gunpowder plot, J. J. O’Molloy said.

[10926]

[10927]Ned Lambert cracked his fingers in the air.

[10928]

[10929]—God! he cried. I forgot to tell him that one about the earl of

[10930]Kildare after he set fire to Cashel cathedral. You know that one? I’m

[10931]bloody sorry I did it, says he, but I declare to God I thought the

[10932]archbishop was inside. He mightn’t like it, though. What? God, I’ll

[10933]tell him anyhow. That was the great earl, the Fitzgerald Mor. Hot

[10934]members they were all of them, the Geraldines.

[10935]

[10936]The horses he passed started nervously under their slack harness. He

[10937]slapped a piebald haunch quivering near him and cried:

[10938]

[10939]—Woa, sonny!

[10940]

[10941]He turned to J. J. O’Molloy and asked:

[10942]

[10943]—Well, Jack. What is it? What’s the trouble? Wait awhile. Hold hard.

[10944]

[10945]With gaping mouth and head far back he stood still and, after an

[10946]instant, sneezed loudly.

[10947]

[10948]—Chow! he said. Blast you!

[10949]

[10950]—The dust from those sacks, J. J. O’Molloy said politely.

[10951]

[10952]—No, Ned Lambert gasped, I caught a... cold night before... blast your

[10953]soul... night before last... and there was a hell of a lot of draught...

[10954]

[10955]He held his handkerchief ready for the coming...

[10956]

[10957]—I was... Glasnevin this morning... poor little... what do you call

[10958]him... Chow!... Mother of Moses!

[10959]

[10960]Tom Rochford took the top disk from the pile he clasped against his

[10961]claret waistcoat.

[10962]

[10963]—See? he said. Say it’s turn six. In here, see. Turn Now On.

[10964]

[10965]He slid it into the left slot for them. It shot down the groove, wobbled

[10966]a while, ceased, ogling them: six.

[10967]

[10968]Lawyers of the past, haughty, pleading, beheld pass from the

[10969]consolidated taxing office to Nisi Prius court Richie Goulding carrying

[10970]the costbag of Goulding, Collis and Ward and heard rustling from the

[10971]admiralty division of king’s bench to the court of appeal an elderly

[10972]female with false teeth smiling incredulously and a black silk skirt of

[10973]great amplitude.

[10974]

[10975]—See? he said. See now the last one I put in is over here: Turns Over.

[10976]The impact. Leverage, see?

[10977]

[10978]He showed them the rising column of disks on the right.

[10979]

[10980]—Smart idea, Nosey Flynn said, snuffling. So a fellow coming in late

[10981]can see what turn is on and what turns are over.

[10982]

[10983]—See? Tom Rochford said.

[10984]

[10985]He slid in a disk for himself: and watched it shoot, wobble, ogle, stop:

[10986]four. Turn Now On.

[10987]

[10988]—I’ll see him now in the Ormond, Lenehan said, and sound him. One

[10989]good turn deserves another.

[10990]

[10991]—Do, Tom Rochford said. Tell him I’m Boylan with impatience.

[10992]

[10993]—Goodnight, M’Coy said abruptly. When you two begin...

[10994]

[10995]Nosey Flynn stooped towards the lever, snuffling at it.

[10996]

[10997]—But how does it work here, Tommy? he asked.

[10998]

[10999]—Tooraloo, Lenehan said. See you later.

[11000]

[11001]He followed M’Coy out across the tiny square of Crampton court.

[11002]

[11003]—He’s a hero, he said simply.

[11004]

[11005]—I know, M’Coy said. The drain, you mean.

[11006]

[11007]—Drain? Lenehan said. It was down a manhole.

[11008]

[11009]They passed Dan Lowry’s musichall where Marie Kendall, charming

[11010]soubrette, smiled on them from a poster a dauby smile.

[11011]

[11012]Going down the path of Sycamore street beside the Empire musichall

[11013]Lenehan showed M’Coy how the whole thing was. One of those manholes

[11014]like a bloody gaspipe and there was the poor devil stuck down in it,

[11015]half choked with sewer gas. Down went Tom Rochford anyhow, booky’s

[11016]vest and all, with the rope round him. And be damned but he got the rope

[11017]round the poor devil and the two were hauled up.

[11018]

[11019]—The act of a hero, he said.

[11020]

[11021]At the Dolphin they halted to allow the ambulance car to gallop past

[11022]them for Jervis street.

[11023]

[11024]—This way, he said, walking to the right. I want to pop into Lynam’s

[11025]to see Sceptre’s starting price. What’s the time by your gold watch

[11026]and chain?

[11027]

[11028]M’Coy peered into Marcus Tertius Moses’ sombre office, then at

[11029]O’Neill’s clock.

[11030]

[11031]—After three, he said. Who’s riding her?

[11032]

[11033]—O. Madden, Lenehan said. And a game filly she is.

[11034]

[11035]While he waited in Temple bar M’Coy dodged a banana peel with gentle

[11036]pushes of his toe from the path to the gutter. Fellow might damn easy

[11037]get a nasty fall there coming along tight in the dark.

[11038]

[11039]The gates of the drive opened wide to give egress to the viceregal

[11040]cavalcade.

[11041]

[11042]—Even money, Lenehan said returning. I knocked against Bantam Lyons

[11043]in there going to back a bloody horse someone gave him that hasn’t an

[11044]earthly. Through here.

[11045]

[11046]They went up the steps and under Merchants’ arch. A darkbacked figure

[11047]scanned books on the hawker’s cart.

[11048]

[11049]—There he is, Lenehan said.

[11050]

[11051]—Wonder what he’s buying, M’Coy said, glancing behind.

[11052]

[11053]—Leopoldo or the Bloom is on the Rye, Lenehan said.

[11054]

[11055]—He’s dead nuts on sales, M’Coy said. I was with him one day and

[11056]he bought a book from an old one in Liffey street for two bob. There

[11057]were fine plates in it worth double the money, the stars and the moon

[11058]and comets with long tails. Astronomy it was about.

[11059]

[11060]Lenehan laughed.

[11061]

[11062]—I’ll tell you a damn good one about comets’ tails, he said. Come

[11063]over in the sun.

[11064]

[11065]They crossed to the metal bridge and went along Wellington quay by the

[11066]riverwall.

[11067]

[11068]Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam came out of Mangan’s, late

[11069]Fehrenbach’s, carrying a pound and a half of porksteaks.

[11070]

[11071]—There was a long spread out at Glencree reformatory, Lenehan said

[11072]eagerly. The annual dinner, you know. Boiled shirt affair. The lord

[11073]mayor was there, Val Dillon it was, and sir Charles Cameron and Dan

[11074]Dawson spoke and there was music. Bartell d’Arcy sang and Benjamin

[11075]Dollard...

[11076]

[11077]—I know, M’Coy broke in. My missus sang there once.

[11078]

[11079]—Did she? Lenehan said.

[11080]

[11081]A card Unfurnished Apartments reappeared on the windowsash of number 7

[11082]Eccles street.

[11083]

[11084]He checked his tale a moment but broke out in a wheezy laugh.

[11085]

[11086]—But wait till I tell you, he said. Delahunt of Camden street had the

[11087]catering and yours truly was chief bottlewasher. Bloom and the wife were

[11088]there. Lashings of stuff we put up: port wine and sherry and curacoa to

[11089]which we did ample justice. Fast and furious it was. After liquids came

[11090]solids. Cold joints galore and mince pies...

[11091]

[11092]—I know, M’Coy said. The year the missus was there...

[11093]

[11094]Lenehan linked his arm warmly.

[11095]

[11096]—But wait till I tell you, he said. We had a midnight lunch too after

[11097]all the jollification and when we sallied forth it was blue o’clock

[11098]the morning after the night before. Coming home it was a gorgeous

[11099]winter’s night on the Featherbed Mountain. Bloom and Chris Callinan

[11100]were on one side of the car and I was with the wife on the other. We

[11101]started singing glees and duets: Lo, the early beam of morning. She was

[11102]well primed with a good load of Delahunt’s port under her bellyband.

[11103]Every jolt the bloody car gave I had her bumping up against me. Hell’s

[11104]delights! She has a fine pair, God bless her. Like that.

[11105]

[11106]He held his caved hands a cubit from him, frowning:

[11107]

[11108]—I was tucking the rug under her and settling her boa all the time.

[11109]Know what I mean?

[11110]

[11111]His hands moulded ample curves of air. He shut his eyes tight in

[11112]delight, his body shrinking, and blew a sweet chirp from his lips.

[11113]

[11114]—The lad stood to attention anyhow, he said with a sigh. She’s a

[11115]gamey mare and no mistake. Bloom was pointing out all the stars and the

[11116]comets in the heavens to Chris Callinan and the jarvey: the great bear

[11117]and Hercules and the dragon, and the whole jingbang lot. But, by God,

[11118]I was lost, so to speak, in the milky way. He knows them all, faith. At

[11119]last she spotted a weeny weeshy one miles away. And what star is that,

[11120]Poldy? says she. By God, she had Bloom cornered. That one, is it? says

[11121]Chris Callinan, sure that’s only what you might call a pinprick. By

[11122]God, he wasn’t far wide of the mark.

[11123]

[11124]Lenehan stopped and leaned on the riverwall, panting with soft laughter.

[11125]

[11126]—I’m weak, he gasped.

[11127]

[11128]M’Coy’s white face smiled about it at instants and grew grave.

[11129]Lenehan walked on again. He lifted his yachtingcap and scratched his

[11130]hindhead rapidly. He glanced sideways in the sunlight at M’Coy.

[11131]

[11132]—He’s a cultured allroundman, Bloom is, he said seriously. He’s

[11133]not one of your common or garden... you know... There’s a touch of the

[11134]artist about old Bloom.

[11135]

[11136]Mr Bloom turned over idly pages of The Awful Disclosures of Maria

[11137]Monk, then of Aristotle’s Masterpiece. Crooked botched print. Plates:

[11138]infants cuddled in a ball in bloodred wombs like livers of slaughtered

[11139]cows. Lots of them like that at this moment all over the world. All

[11140]butting with their skulls to get out of it. Child born every minute

[11141]somewhere. Mrs Purefoy.

[11142]

[11143]He laid both books aside and glanced at the third: Tales of the Ghetto

[11144]by Leopold von Sacher Masoch.

[11145]

[11146]—That I had, he said, pushing it by.

[11147]

[11148]The shopman let two volumes fall on the counter.

[11149]

[11150]—Them are two good ones, he said.

[11151]

[11152]Onions of his breath came across the counter out of his ruined mouth.

[11153]He bent to make a bundle of the other books, hugged them against his

[11154]unbuttoned waistcoat and bore them off behind the dingy curtain.

[11155]

[11156]On O’Connell bridge many persons observed the grave deportment and gay

[11157]apparel of Mr Denis J Maginni, professor of dancing &c.

[11158]

[11159]Mr Bloom, alone, looked at the titles. Fair Tyrants by James Lovebirch.

[11160]Know the kind that is. Had it? Yes.

[11161]

[11162]He opened it. Thought so.

[11163]

[11164]A woman’s voice behind the dingy curtain. Listen: the man.

[11165]

[11166]No: she wouldn’t like that much. Got her it once.

[11167]

[11168]He read the other title: Sweets of Sin. More in her line. Let us see.

[11169]

[11170]He read where his finger opened.

[11171]

[11172]—All the dollarbills her husband gave her were spent in the stores on

[11173]wondrous gowns and costliest frillies. For him! For Raoul!

[11174]

[11175]Yes. This. Here. Try.

[11176]

[11177]—Her mouth glued on his in a luscious voluptuous kiss while his hands

[11178]felt for the opulent curves inside her déshabillé.

[11179]

[11180]Yes. Take this. The end.

[11181]

[11182]—You are late, he spoke hoarsely, eying her with a suspicious glare.

[11183]

[11184]The beautiful woman threw off her sabletrimmed wrap, displaying her

[11185]queenly shoulders and heaving embonpoint. An imperceptible smile played

[11186]round her perfect lips as she turned to him calmly.

[11187]

[11188]Mr Bloom read again: The beautiful woman.

[11189]

[11190]Warmth showered gently over him, cowing his flesh. Flesh yielded amply

[11191]amid rumpled clothes: whites of eyes swooning up. His nostrils arched

[11192]themselves for prey. Melting breast ointments (for him! For Raoul!).

[11193]Armpits’ oniony sweat. Fishgluey slime (her heaving embonpoint!).

[11194]Feel! Press! Crished! Sulphur dung of lions!

[11195]

[11196]Young! Young!

[11197]

[11198]An elderly female, no more young, left the building of the courts of

[11199]chancery, king’s bench, exchequer and common pleas, having heard in

[11200]the lord chancellor’s court the case in lunacy of Potterton, in the

[11201]admiralty division the summons, exparte motion, of the owners of the

[11202]Lady Cairns versus the owners of the barque Mona, in the court of appeal

[11203]reservation of judgment in the case of Harvey versus the Ocean Accident

[11204]and Guarantee Corporation.

[11205]

[11206]Phlegmy coughs shook the air of the bookshop, bulging out the dingy

[11207]curtains. The shopman’s uncombed grey head came out and his unshaven

[11208]reddened face, coughing. He raked his throat rudely, puked phlegm on the

[11209]floor. He put his boot on what he had spat, wiping his sole along it,

[11210]and bent, showing a rawskinned crown, scantily haired.

[11211]

[11212]Mr Bloom beheld it.

[11213]

[11214]Mastering his troubled breath, he said:

[11215]

[11216]—I’ll take this one.

[11217]

[11218]The shopman lifted eyes bleared with old rheum.

[11219]

[11220]—Sweets of Sin, he said, tapping on it. That’s a good one.

[11221]

[11222]The lacquey by the door of Dillon’s auctionrooms shook his handbell

[11223]twice again and viewed himself in the chalked mirror of the cabinet.

[11224]

[11225]Dilly Dedalus, loitering by the curbstone, heard the beats of the

[11226]bell, the cries of the auctioneer within. Four and nine. Those lovely

[11227]curtains. Five shillings. Cosy curtains. Selling new at two guineas. Any

[11228]advance on five shillings? Going for five shillings.

[11229]

[11230]The lacquey lifted his handbell and shook it:

[11231]

[11232]—Barang!

[11233]

[11234]Bang of the lastlap bell spurred the halfmile wheelmen to their sprint.

[11235]J. A. Jackson, W. E. Wylie, A. Munro and H. T. Gahan, their stretched

[11236]necks wagging, negotiated the curve by the College library.

[11237]

[11238]Mr Dedalus, tugging a long moustache, came round from Williams’s row.

[11239]He halted near his daughter.

[11240]

[11241]—It’s time for you, she said.

[11242]

[11243]—Stand up straight for the love of the lord Jesus, Mr Dedalus said.

[11244]Are you trying to imitate your uncle John, the cornetplayer, head upon

[11245]shoulder? Melancholy God!

[11246]

[11247]Dilly shrugged her shoulders. Mr Dedalus placed his hands on them and

[11248]held them back.

[11249]

[11250]—Stand up straight, girl, he said. You’ll get curvature of the

[11251]spine. Do you know what you look like?

[11252]

[11253]He let his head sink suddenly down and forward, hunching his shoulders

[11254]and dropping his underjaw.

[11255]

[11256]—Give it up, father, Dilly said. All the people are looking at you.

[11257]

[11258]Mr Dedalus drew himself upright and tugged again at his moustache.

[11259]

[11260]—Did you get any money? Dilly asked.

[11261]

[11262]—Where would I get money? Mr Dedalus said. There is no-one in Dublin

[11263]would lend me fourpence.

[11264]

[11265]—You got some, Dilly said, looking in his eyes.

[11266]

[11267]—How do you know that? Mr Dedalus asked, his tongue in his cheek.

[11268]

[11269]Mr Kernan, pleased with the order he had booked, walked boldly along

[11270]James’s street.

[11271]

[11272]—I know you did, Dilly answered. Were you in the Scotch house now?

[11273]

[11274]—I was not, then, Mr Dedalus said, smiling. Was it the little nuns

[11275]taught you to be so saucy? Here.

[11276]

[11277]He handed her a shilling.

[11278]

[11279]—See if you can do anything with that, he said.

[11280]

[11281]—I suppose you got five, Dilly said. Give me more than that.

[11282]

[11283]—Wait awhile, Mr Dedalus said threateningly. You’re like the rest of

[11284]them, are you? An insolent pack of little bitches since your poor mother

[11285]died. But wait awhile. You’ll all get a short shrift and a long day

[11286]from me. Low blackguardism! I’m going to get rid of you. Wouldn’t

[11287]care if I was stretched out stiff. He’s dead. The man upstairs is

[11288]dead.

[11289]

[11290]He left her and walked on. Dilly followed quickly and pulled his coat.

[11291]

[11292]—Well, what is it? he said, stopping.

[11293]

[11294]The lacquey rang his bell behind their backs.

[11295]

[11296]—Barang!

[11297]

[11298]—Curse your bloody blatant soul, Mr Dedalus cried, turning on him.

[11299]

[11300]The lacquey, aware of comment, shook the lolling clapper of his bell but

[11301]feebly:

[11302]

[11303]—Bang!

[11304]

[11305]Mr Dedalus stared at him.

[11306]

[11307]—Watch him, he said. It’s instructive. I wonder will he allow us to

[11308]talk.

[11309]

[11310]—You got more than that, father, Dilly said.

[11311]

[11312]—I’m going to show you a little trick, Mr Dedalus said. I’ll leave

[11313]you all where Jesus left the jews. Look, there’s all I have. I got

[11314]two shillings from Jack Power and I spent twopence for a shave for the

[11315]funeral.

[11316]

[11317]He drew forth a handful of copper coins, nervously.

[11318]

[11319]—Can’t you look for some money somewhere? Dilly said.

[11320]

[11321]Mr Dedalus thought and nodded.

[11322]

[11323]—I will, he said gravely. I looked all along the gutter in O’Connell

[11324]street. I’ll try this one now.

[11325]

[11326]—You’re very funny, Dilly said, grinning.

[11327]

[11328]—Here, Mr Dedalus said, handing her two pennies. Get a glass of milk

[11329]for yourself and a bun or a something. I’ll be home shortly.

[11330]

[11331]He put the other coins in his pocket and started to walk on.

[11332]

[11333]The viceregal cavalcade passed, greeted by obsequious policemen, out of

[11334]Parkgate.

[11335]

[11336]—I’m sure you have another shilling, Dilly said.

[11337]

[11338]The lacquey banged loudly.

[11339]

[11340]Mr Dedalus amid the din walked off, murmuring to himself with a pursing

[11341]mincing mouth gently:

[11342]

[11343]—The little nuns! Nice little things! O, sure they wouldn’t do

[11344]anything! O, sure they wouldn’t really! Is it little sister Monica!

[11345]

[11346]From the sundial towards James’s gate walked Mr Kernan, pleased with

[11347]the order he had booked for Pulbrook Robertson, boldly along James’s

[11348]street, past Shackleton’s offices. Got round him all right. How do you

[11349]do, Mr Crimmins? First rate, sir. I was afraid you might be up in your

[11350]other establishment in Pimlico. How are things going? Just keeping

[11351]alive. Lovely weather we’re having. Yes, indeed. Good for the country.

[11352]Those farmers are always grumbling. I’ll just take a thimbleful of

[11353]your best gin, Mr Crimmins. A small gin, sir. Yes, sir. Terrible

[11354]affair that General Slocum explosion. Terrible, terrible! A thousand

[11355]casualties. And heartrending scenes. Men trampling down women and

[11356]children. Most brutal thing. What do they say was the cause? Spontaneous

[11357]combustion. Most scandalous revelation. Not a single lifeboat would

[11358]float and the firehose all burst. What I can’t understand is how

[11359]the inspectors ever allowed a boat like that... Now, you’re talking

[11360]straight, Mr Crimmins. You know why? Palm oil. Is that a fact? Without

[11361]a doubt. Well now, look at that. And America they say is the land of the

[11362]free. I thought we were bad here.

[11363]

[11364]I smiled at him. America, I said quietly, just like that. What is it?

[11365]The sweepings of every country including our own. Isn’t that true?

[11366]That’s a fact.

[11367]

[11368]Graft, my dear sir. Well, of course, where there’s money going

[11369]there’s always someone to pick it up.

[11370]

[11371]Saw him looking at my frockcoat. Dress does it. Nothing like a dressy

[11372]appearance. Bowls them over.

[11373]

[11374]—Hello, Simon, Father Cowley said. How are things?

[11375]

[11376]—Hello, Bob, old man, Mr Dedalus answered, stopping.

[11377]

[11378]Mr Kernan halted and preened himself before the sloping mirror of Peter

[11379]Kennedy, hairdresser. Stylish coat, beyond a doubt. Scott of Dawson

[11380]street. Well worth the half sovereign I gave Neary for it. Never built

[11381]under three guineas. Fits me down to the ground. Some Kildare street

[11382]club toff had it probably. John Mulligan, the manager of the Hibernian

[11383]bank, gave me a very sharp eye yesterday on Carlisle bridge as if he

[11384]remembered me.

[11385]

[11386]Aham! Must dress the character for those fellows. Knight of the road.

[11387]Gentleman. And now, Mr Crimmins, may we have the honour of your custom

[11388]again, sir. The cup that cheers but not inebriates, as the old saying

[11389]has it.

[11390]

[11391]North wall and sir John Rogerson’s quay, with hulls and anchorchains,

[11392]sailing westward, sailed by a skiff, a crumpled throwaway, rocked on the

[11393]ferrywash, Elijah is coming.

[11394]

[11395]Mr Kernan glanced in farewell at his image. High colour, of course.

[11396]Grizzled moustache. Returned Indian officer. Bravely he bore his stumpy

[11397]body forward on spatted feet, squaring his shoulders. Is that Ned

[11398]Lambert’s brother over the way, Sam? What? Yes. He’s as like it as

[11399]damn it. No. The windscreen of that motorcar in the sun there. Just a

[11400]flash like that. Damn like him.

[11401]

[11402]Aham! Hot spirit of juniper juice warmed his vitals and his breath. Good

[11403]drop of gin, that was. His frocktails winked in bright sunshine to his

[11404]fat strut.

[11405]

[11406]Down there Emmet was hanged, drawn and quartered. Greasy black rope.

[11407]Dogs licking the blood off the street when the lord lieutenant’s wife

[11408]drove by in her noddy.

[11409]

[11410]Bad times those were. Well, well. Over and done with. Great topers too.

[11411]Fourbottle men.

[11412]

[11413]Let me see. Is he buried in saint Michan’s? Or no, there was a

[11414]midnight burial in Glasnevin. Corpse brought in through a secret door

[11415]in the wall. Dignam is there now. Went out in a puff. Well, well. Better

[11416]turn down here. Make a detour.

[11417]

[11418]Mr Kernan turned and walked down the slope of Watling street by the

[11419]corner of Guinness’s visitors’ waitingroom. Outside the Dublin

[11420]Distillers Company’s stores an outside car without fare or jarvey

[11421]stood, the reins knotted to the wheel. Damn dangerous thing. Some

[11422]Tipperary bosthoon endangering the lives of the citizens. Runaway horse.

[11423]

[11424]Denis Breen with his tomes, weary of having waited an hour in John Henry

[11425]Menton’s office, led his wife over O’Connell bridge, bound for the

[11426]office of Messrs Collis and Ward.

[11427]

[11428]Mr Kernan approached Island street.

[11429]

[11430]Times of the troubles. Must ask Ned Lambert to lend me those

[11431]reminiscences of sir Jonah Barrington. When you look back on it all

[11432]now in a kind of retrospective arrangement. Gaming at Daly’s. No

[11433]cardsharping then. One of those fellows got his hand nailed to the table

[11434]by a dagger. Somewhere here lord Edward Fitzgerald escaped from major

[11435]Sirr. Stables behind Moira house.

[11436]

[11437]Damn good gin that was.

[11438]

[11439]Fine dashing young nobleman. Good stock, of course. That ruffian, that

[11440]sham squire, with his violet gloves gave him away. Course they were

[11441]on the wrong side. They rose in dark and evil days. Fine poem that

[11442]is: Ingram. They were gentlemen. Ben Dollard does sing that ballad

[11443]touchingly. Masterly rendition.

[11444]

[11445]At the siege of Ross did my father fall.

[11446]

[11447]A cavalcade in easy trot along Pembroke quay passed, outriders leaping,

[11448]leaping in their, in their saddles. Frockcoats. Cream sunshades.

[11449]

[11450]Mr Kernan hurried forward, blowing pursily.

[11451]

[11452]His Excellency! Too bad! Just missed that by a hair. Damn it! What a

[11453]pity!

[11454]

[11455]Stephen Dedalus watched through the webbed window the lapidary’s

[11456]fingers prove a timedulled chain. Dust webbed the window and the

[11457]showtrays. Dust darkened the toiling fingers with their vulture nails.

[11458]Dust slept on dull coils of bronze and silver, lozenges of cinnabar, on

[11459]rubies, leprous and winedark stones.

[11460]

[11461]Born all in the dark wormy earth, cold specks of fire, evil, lights

[11462]shining in the darkness. Where fallen archangels flung the stars of

[11463]their brows. Muddy swinesnouts, hands, root and root, gripe and wrest

[11464]them.

[11465]

[11466]She dances in a foul gloom where gum bums with garlic. A sailorman,

[11467]rustbearded, sips from a beaker rum and eyes her. A long and seafed

[11468]silent rut. She dances, capers, wagging her sowish haunches and her

[11469]hips, on her gross belly flapping a ruby egg.

[11470]

[11471]Old Russell with a smeared shammy rag burnished again his gem, turned it

[11472]and held it at the point of his Moses’ beard. Grandfather ape gloating

[11473]on a stolen hoard.

[11474]

[11475]And you who wrest old images from the burial earth? The brainsick words

[11476]of sophists: Antisthenes. A lore of drugs. Orient and immortal wheat

[11477]standing from everlasting to everlasting.

[11478]

[11479]Two old women fresh from their whiff of the briny trudged through

[11480]Irishtown along London bridge road, one with a sanded tired umbrella,

[11481]one with a midwife’s bag in which eleven cockles rolled.

[11482]

[11483]The whirr of flapping leathern bands and hum of dynamos from the

[11484]powerhouse urged Stephen to be on. Beingless beings. Stop! Throb always

[11485]without you and the throb always within. Your heart you sing of. I

[11486]between them. Where? Between two roaring worlds where they swirl, I.

[11487]Shatter them, one and both. But stun myself too in the blow. Shatter me

[11488]you who can. Bawd and butcher were the words. I say! Not yet awhile. A

[11489]look around.

[11490]

[11491]Yes, quite true. Very large and wonderful and keeps famous time. You say

[11492]right, sir. A Monday morning, ’twas so, indeed.

[11493]

[11494]Stephen went down Bedford row, the handle of the ash clacking against

[11495]his shoulderblade. In Clohissey’s window a faded 1860 print of Heenan

[11496]boxing Sayers held his eye. Staring backers with square hats stood

[11497]round the roped prizering. The heavyweights in tight loincloths

[11498]proposed gently each to other his bulbous fists. And they are throbbing:

[11499]heroes’ hearts.

[11500]

[11501]He turned and halted by the slanted bookcart.

[11502]

[11503]—Twopence each, the huckster said. Four for sixpence.

[11504]

[11505]Tattered pages. The Irish Beekeeper. Life and Miracles of the Curé of

[11506]Ars. Pocket Guide to Killarney.

[11507]

[11508]I might find here one of my pawned schoolprizes. Stephano Dedalo, alumno

[11509]optimo, palmam ferenti.

[11510]

[11511]Father Conmee, having read his little hours, walked through the hamlet

[11512]of Donnycarney, murmuring vespers.

[11513]

[11514]Binding too good probably. What is this? Eighth and ninth book of Moses.

[11515]Secret of all secrets. Seal of King David. Thumbed pages: read and read.

[11516]Who has passed here before me? How to soften chapped hands. Recipe for

[11517]white wine vinegar. How to win a woman’s love. For me this. Say the

[11518]following talisman three times with hands folded:

[11519]

[11520]—Se el yilo nebrakada femininum! Amor me solo! Sanktus! Amen.

[11521]

[11522]Who wrote this? Charms and invocations of the most blessed abbot Peter

[11523]Salanka to all true believers divulged. As good as any other abbot’s

[11524]charms, as mumbling Joachim’s. Down, baldynoddle, or we’ll wool your

[11525]wool.

[11526]

[11527]—What are you doing here, Stephen?

[11528]

[11529]Dilly’s high shoulders and shabby dress.

[11530]

[11531]Shut the book quick. Don’t let see.

[11532]

[11533]—What are you doing? Stephen said.

[11534]

[11535]A Stuart face of nonesuch Charles, lank locks falling at its sides. It

[11536]glowed as she crouched feeding the fire with broken boots. I told her

[11537]of Paris. Late lieabed under a quilt of old overcoats, fingering a

[11538]pinchbeck bracelet, Dan Kelly’s token. Nebrakada femininum.

[11539]

[11540]—What have you there? Stephen asked.

[11541]

[11542]—I bought it from the other cart for a penny, Dilly said, laughing

[11543]nervously. Is it any good?

[11544]

[11545]My eyes they say she has. Do others see me so? Quick, far and daring.

[11546]Shadow of my mind.

[11547]

[11548]He took the coverless book from her hand. Chardenal’s French primer.

[11549]

[11550]—What did you buy that for? he asked. To learn French?

[11551]

[11552]She nodded, reddening and closing tight her lips.

[11553]

[11554]Show no surprise. Quite natural.

[11555]

[11556]—Here, Stephen said. It’s all right. Mind Maggy doesn’t pawn it on

[11557]you. I suppose all my books are gone.

[11558]

[11559]—Some, Dilly said. We had to.

[11560]

[11561]She is drowning. Agenbite. Save her. Agenbite. All against us. She will

[11562]drown me with her, eyes and hair. Lank coils of seaweed hair around me,

[11563]my heart, my soul. Salt green death.

[11564]

[11565]We.

[11566]

[11567]Agenbite of inwit. Inwit’s agenbite.

[11568]

[11569]Misery! Misery!

[11570]

[11571]—Hello, Simon, Father Cowley said. How are things?

[11572]

[11573]—Hello, Bob, old man, Mr Dedalus answered, stopping.

[11574]

[11575]They clasped hands loudly outside Reddy and Daughter’s. Father Cowley

[11576]brushed his moustache often downward with a scooping hand.

[11577]

[11578]—What’s the best news? Mr Dedalus said.

[11579]

[11580]—Why then not much, Father Cowley said. I’m barricaded up, Simon,

[11581]with two men prowling around the house trying to effect an entrance.

[11582]

[11583]—Jolly, Mr Dedalus said. Who is it?

[11584]

[11585]—O, Father Cowley said. A certain gombeen man of our acquaintance.

[11586]

[11587]—With a broken back, is it? Mr Dedalus asked.

[11588]

[11589]—The same, Simon, Father Cowley answered. Reuben of that ilk. I’m

[11590]just waiting for Ben Dollard. He’s going to say a word to long John to

[11591]get him to take those two men off. All I want is a little time.

[11592]

[11593]He looked with vague hope up and down the quay, a big apple bulging in

[11594]his neck.

[11595]

[11596]—I know, Mr Dedalus said, nodding. Poor old bockedy Ben! He’s always

[11597]doing a good turn for someone. Hold hard!

[11598]

[11599]He put on his glasses and gazed towards the metal bridge an instant.

[11600]

[11601]—There he is, by God, he said, arse and pockets.

[11602]

[11603]Ben Dollard’s loose blue cutaway and square hat above large slops

[11604]crossed the quay in full gait from the metal bridge. He came towards

[11605]them at an amble, scratching actively behind his coattails.

[11606]

[11607]As he came near Mr Dedalus greeted:

[11608]

[11609]—Hold that fellow with the bad trousers.

[11610]

[11611]—Hold him now, Ben Dollard said.

[11612]

[11613]Mr Dedalus eyed with cold wandering scorn various points of Ben

[11614]Dollard’s figure. Then, turning to Father Cowley with a nod, he

[11615]muttered sneeringly:

[11616]

[11617]—That’s a pretty garment, isn’t it, for a summer’s day?

[11618]

[11619]—Why, God eternally curse your soul, Ben Dollard growled furiously, I

[11620]threw out more clothes in my time than you ever saw.

[11621]

[11622]He stood beside them beaming, on them first and on his roomy clothes

[11623]from points of which Mr Dedalus flicked fluff, saying:

[11624]

[11625]—They were made for a man in his health, Ben, anyhow.

[11626]

[11627]—Bad luck to the jewman that made them, Ben Dollard said. Thanks be to

[11628]God he’s not paid yet.

[11629]

[11630]—And how is that basso profondo, Benjamin? Father Cowley asked.

[11631]

[11632]Cashel Boyle O’Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, murmuring,

[11633]glassyeyed, strode past the Kildare street club.

[11634]

[11635]Ben Dollard frowned and, making suddenly a chanter’s mouth, gave forth

[11636]a deep note.

[11637]

[11638]—Aw! he said.

[11639]

[11640]—That’s the style, Mr Dedalus said, nodding to its drone.

[11641]

[11642]—What about that? Ben Dollard said. Not too dusty? What?

[11643]

[11644]He turned to both.

[11645]

[11646]—That’ll do, Father Cowley said, nodding also.

[11647]

[11648]The reverend Hugh C. Love walked from the old chapterhouse of saint

[11649]Mary’s abbey past James and Charles Kennedy’s, rectifiers, attended

[11650]by Geraldines tall and personable, towards the Tholsel beyond the ford

[11651]of hurdles.

[11652]

[11653]Ben Dollard with a heavy list towards the shopfronts led them forward,

[11654]his joyful fingers in the air.

[11655]

[11656]—Come along with me to the subsheriff’s office, he said. I want to

[11657]show you the new beauty Rock has for a bailiff. He’s a cross between

[11658]Lobengula and Lynchehaun. He’s well worth seeing, mind you. Come

[11659]along. I saw John Henry Menton casually in the Bodega just now and it

[11660]will cost me a fall if I don’t... Wait awhile... We’re on the right

[11661]lay, Bob, believe you me.

[11662]

[11663]—For a few days tell him, Father Cowley said anxiously.

[11664]

[11665]Ben Dollard halted and stared, his loud orifice open, a dangling button

[11666]of his coat wagging brightbacked from its thread as he wiped away the

[11667]heavy shraums that clogged his eyes to hear aright.

[11668]

[11669]—What few days? he boomed. Hasn’t your landlord distrained for rent?

[11670]

[11671]—He has, Father Cowley said.

[11672]

[11673]—Then our friend’s writ is not worth the paper it’s printed on,

[11674]Ben Dollard said. The landlord has the prior claim. I gave him all the

[11675]particulars. 29 Windsor avenue. Love is the name?

[11676]

[11677]—That’s right, Father Cowley said. The reverend Mr Love. He’s a

[11678]minister in the country somewhere. But are you sure of that?

[11679]

[11680]—You can tell Barabbas from me, Ben Dollard said, that he can put that

[11681]writ where Jacko put the nuts.

[11682]

[11683]He led Father Cowley boldly forward, linked to his bulk.

[11684]

[11685]—Filberts I believe they were, Mr Dedalus said, as he dropped his

[11686]glasses on his coatfront, following them.

[11687]

[11688]—The youngster will be all right, Martin Cunningham said, as they

[11689]passed out of the Castleyard gate.

[11690]

[11691]The policeman touched his forehead.

[11692]

[11693]—God bless you, Martin Cunningham said, cheerily.

[11694]

[11695]He signed to the waiting jarvey who chucked at the reins and set on

[11696]towards Lord Edward street.

[11697]

[11698]Bronze by gold, Miss Kennedy’s head by Miss Douce’s head, appeared

[11699]above the crossblind of the Ormond hotel.

[11700]

[11701]—Yes, Martin Cunningham said, fingering his beard. I wrote to Father

[11702]Conmee and laid the whole case before him.

[11703]

[11704]—You could try our friend, Mr Power suggested backward.

[11705]

[11706]—Boyd? Martin Cunningham said shortly. Touch me not.

[11707]

[11708]John Wyse Nolan, lagging behind, reading the list, came after them

[11709]quickly down Cork hill.

[11710]

[11711]On the steps of the City hall Councillor Nannetti, descending, hailed

[11712]Alderman Cowley and Councillor Abraham Lyon ascending.

[11713]

[11714]The castle car wheeled empty into upper Exchange street.

[11715]

[11716]—Look here, Martin, John Wyse Nolan said, overtaking them at the Mail

[11717]office. I see Bloom put his name down for five shillings.

[11718]

[11719]—Quite right, Martin Cunningham said, taking the list. And put down

[11720]the five shillings too.

[11721]

[11722]—Without a second word either, Mr Power said.

[11723]

[11724]—Strange but true, Martin Cunningham added.

[11725]

[11726]John Wyse Nolan opened wide eyes.

[11727]

[11728]—I’ll say there is much kindness in the jew, he quoted, elegantly.

[11729]

[11730]They went down Parliament street.

[11731]

[11732]—There’s Jimmy Henry, Mr Power said, just heading for Kavanagh’s.

[11733]

[11734]—Righto, Martin Cunningham said. Here goes.

[11735]

[11736]Outside la Maison Claire Blazes Boylan waylaid Jack Mooney’s

[11737]brother-in-law, humpy, tight, making for the liberties.

[11738]

[11739]John Wyse Nolan fell back with Mr Power, while Martin Cunningham took

[11740]the elbow of a dapper little man in a shower of hail suit, who walked

[11741]uncertainly, with hasty steps past Micky Anderson’s watches.

[11742]

[11743]—The assistant town clerk’s corns are giving him some trouble, John

[11744]Wyse Nolan told Mr Power.

[11745]

[11746]They followed round the corner towards James Kavanagh’s winerooms. The

[11747]empty castle car fronted them at rest in Essex gate. Martin Cunningham,

[11748]speaking always, showed often the list at which Jimmy Henry did not

[11749]glance.

[11750]

[11751]—And long John Fanning is here too, John Wyse Nolan said, as large as

[11752]life.

[11753]

[11754]The tall form of long John Fanning filled the doorway where he stood.

[11755]

[11756]—Good day, Mr Subsheriff, Martin Cunningham said, as all halted and

[11757]greeted.

[11758]

[11759]Long John Fanning made no way for them. He removed his large Henry Clay

[11760]decisively and his large fierce eyes scowled intelligently over all

[11761]their faces.

[11762]

[11763]—Are the conscript fathers pursuing their peaceful deliberations? he

[11764]said with rich acrid utterance to the assistant town clerk.

[11765]

[11766]Hell open to christians they were having, Jimmy Henry said pettishly,

[11767]about their damned Irish language. Where was the marshal, he wanted

[11768]to know, to keep order in the council chamber. And old Barlow the

[11769]macebearer laid up with asthma, no mace on the table, nothing in order,

[11770]no quorum even, and Hutchinson, the lord mayor, in Llandudno and little

[11771]Lorcan Sherlock doing locum tenens for him. Damned Irish language,

[11772]language of our forefathers.

[11773]

[11774]Long John Fanning blew a plume of smoke from his lips.

[11775]

[11776]Martin Cunningham spoke by turns, twirling the peak of his beard, to the

[11777]assistant town clerk and the subsheriff, while John Wyse Nolan held his

[11778]peace.

[11779]

[11780]—What Dignam was that? long John Fanning asked.

[11781]

[11782]Jimmy Henry made a grimace and lifted his left foot.

[11783]

[11784]—O, my corns! he said plaintively. Come upstairs for goodness’ sake

[11785]till I sit down somewhere. Uff! Ooo! Mind!

[11786]

[11787]Testily he made room for himself beside long John Fanning’s flank and

[11788]passed in and up the stairs.

[11789]

[11790]—Come on up, Martin Cunningham said to the subsheriff. I don’t think

[11791]you knew him or perhaps you did, though.

[11792]

[11793]With John Wyse Nolan Mr Power followed them in.

[11794]

[11795]—Decent little soul he was, Mr Power said to the stalwart back of long

[11796]John Fanning ascending towards long John Fanning in the mirror.

[11797]

[11798]—Rather lowsized. Dignam of Menton’s office that was, Martin

[11799]Cunningham said.

[11800]

[11801]Long John Fanning could not remember him.

[11802]

[11803]Clatter of horsehoofs sounded from the air.

[11804]

[11805]—What’s that? Martin Cunningham said.

[11806]

[11807]All turned where they stood. John Wyse Nolan came down again. From the

[11808]cool shadow of the doorway he saw the horses pass Parliament street,

[11809]harness and glossy pasterns in sunlight shimmering. Gaily they went past

[11810]before his cool unfriendly eyes, not quickly. In saddles of the leaders,

[11811]leaping leaders, rode outriders.

[11812]

[11813]—What was it? Martin Cunningham asked, as they went on up the

[11814]staircase.

[11815]

[11816]—The lord lieutenantgeneral and general governor of Ireland, John Wyse

[11817]Nolan answered from the stairfoot.

[11818]

[11819]As they trod across the thick carpet Buck Mulligan whispered behind his

[11820]Panama to Haines:

[11821]

[11822]—Parnell’s brother. There in the corner.

[11823]

[11824]They chose a small table near the window, opposite a longfaced man whose

[11825]beard and gaze hung intently down on a chessboard.

[11826]

[11827]—Is that he? Haines asked, twisting round in his seat.

[11828]

[11829]—Yes, Mulligan said. That’s John Howard, his brother, our city

[11830]marshal.

[11831]

[11832]John Howard Parnell translated a white bishop quietly and his grey claw

[11833]went up again to his forehead whereat it rested. An instant after, under

[11834]its screen, his eyes looked quickly, ghostbright, at his foe and fell

[11835]once more upon a working corner.

[11836]

[11837]—I’ll take a mélange, Haines said to the waitress.

[11838]

[11839]—Two mélanges, Buck Mulligan said. And bring us some scones and

[11840]butter and some cakes as well.

[11841]

[11842]When she had gone he said, laughing:

[11843]

[11844]—We call it D.B.C. because they have damn bad cakes. O, but you missed

[11845]Dedalus on Hamlet.

[11846]

[11847]Haines opened his newbought book.

[11848]

[11849]—I’m sorry, he said. Shakespeare is the happy huntingground of all

[11850]minds that have lost their balance.

[11851]

[11852]The onelegged sailor growled at the area of 14 Nelson street:

[11853]

[11854]—England expects...

[11855]

[11856]Buck Mulligan’s primrose waistcoat shook gaily to his laughter.

[11857]

[11858]—You should see him, he said, when his body loses its balance.

[11859]Wandering Ængus I call him.

[11860]

[11861]—I am sure he has an idée fixe, Haines said, pinching his chin

[11862]thoughtfully with thumb and forefinger. Now I am speculating what it

[11863]would be likely to be. Such persons always have.

[11864]

[11865]Buck Mulligan bent across the table gravely.

[11866]

[11867]—They drove his wits astray, he said, by visions of hell. He will

[11868]never capture the Attic note. The note of Swinburne, of all poets, the

[11869]white death and the ruddy birth. That is his tragedy. He can never be a

[11870]poet. The joy of creation...

[11871]

[11872]—Eternal punishment, Haines said, nodding curtly. I see. I tackled him

[11873]this morning on belief. There was something on his mind, I saw.

[11874]It’s rather interesting because professor Pokorny of Vienna makes an

[11875]interesting point out of that.

[11876]

[11877]Buck Mulligan’s watchful eyes saw the waitress come. He helped her to

[11878]unload her tray.

[11879]

[11880]—He can find no trace of hell in ancient Irish myth, Haines said, amid

[11881]the cheerful cups. The moral idea seems lacking, the sense of destiny,

[11882]of retribution. Rather strange he should have just that fixed idea. Does

[11883]he write anything for your movement?

[11884]

[11885]He sank two lumps of sugar deftly longwise through the whipped cream.

[11886]Buck Mulligan slit a steaming scone in two and plastered butter over its

[11887]smoking pith. He bit off a soft piece hungrily.

[11888]

[11889]—Ten years, he said, chewing and laughing. He is going to write

[11890]something in ten years.

[11891]

[11892]—Seems a long way off, Haines said, thoughtfully lifting his spoon.

[11893]Still, I shouldn’t wonder if he did after all.

[11894]

[11895]He tasted a spoonful from the creamy cone of his cup.

[11896]

[11897]—This is real Irish cream I take it, he said with forbearance. I

[11898]don’t want to be imposed on.

[11899]

[11900]Elijah, skiff, light crumpled throwaway, sailed eastward by flanks of

[11901]ships and trawlers, amid an archipelago of corks, beyond new Wapping

[11902]street past Benson’s ferry, and by the threemasted schooner Rosevean

[11903]from Bridgwater with bricks.

[11904]

[11905]Almidano Artifoni walked past Holles street, past Sewell’s yard.

[11906]Behind him Cashel Boyle O’Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, with

[11907]stickumbrelladustcoat dangling, shunned the lamp before Mr Law Smith’s

[11908]house and, crossing, walked along Merrion square. Distantly behind him a

[11909]blind stripling tapped his way by the wall of College park.

[11910]

[11911]Cashel Boyle O’Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell walked as far as

[11912]Mr Lewis Werner’s cheerful windows, then turned and strode back along

[11913]Merrion square, his stickumbrelladustcoat dangling.

[11914]

[11915]At the corner of Wilde’s house he halted, frowned at Elijah’s name

[11916]announced on the Metropolitan hall, frowned at the distant pleasance of

[11917]duke’s lawn. His eyeglass flashed frowning in the sun. With ratsteeth

[11918]bared he muttered:

[11919]

[11920]—Coactus volui.

[11921]

[11922]He strode on for Clare street, grinding his fierce word.

[11923]

[11924]As he strode past Mr Bloom’s dental windows the sway of his dustcoat

[11925]brushed rudely from its angle a slender tapping cane and swept onwards,

[11926]having buffeted a thewless body. The blind stripling turned his sickly

[11927]face after the striding form.

[11928]

[11929]—God’s curse on you, he said sourly, whoever you are! You’re

[11930]blinder nor I am, you bitch’s bastard!

[11931]

[11932]Opposite Ruggy O’Donohoe’s Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam, pawing

[11933]the pound and a half of Mangan’s, late Fehrenbach’s, porksteaks he

[11934]had been sent for, went along warm Wicklow street dawdling. It was too

[11935]blooming dull sitting in the parlour with Mrs Stoer and Mrs Quigley

[11936]and Mrs MacDowell and the blind down and they all at their sniffles

[11937]and sipping sups of the superior tawny sherry uncle Barney brought from

[11938]Tunney’s. And they eating crumbs of the cottage fruitcake, jawing the

[11939]whole blooming time and sighing.

[11940]

[11941]After Wicklow lane the window of Madame Doyle, courtdress milliner,

[11942]stopped him. He stood looking in at the two puckers stripped to their

[11943]pelts and putting up their props. From the sidemirrors two mourning

[11944]Masters Dignam gaped silently. Myler Keogh, Dublin’s pet lamb, will

[11945]meet sergeantmajor Bennett, the Portobello bruiser, for a purse of fifty

[11946]sovereigns. Gob, that’d be a good pucking match to see. Myler Keogh,

[11947]that’s the chap sparring out to him with the green sash. Two bar

[11948]entrance, soldiers half price. I could easy do a bunk on ma. Master

[11949]Dignam on his left turned as he turned. That’s me in mourning. When

[11950]is it? May the twentysecond. Sure, the blooming thing is all over. He

[11951]turned to the right and on his right Master Dignam turned, his cap awry,

[11952]his collar sticking up. Buttoning it down, his chin lifted, he saw the

[11953]image of Marie Kendall, charming soubrette, beside the two puckers. One

[11954]of them mots that do be in the packets of fags Stoer smokes that his old

[11955]fellow welted hell out of him for one time he found out.

[11956]

[11957]Master Dignam got his collar down and dawdled on. The best pucker going

[11958]for strength was Fitzsimons. One puck in the wind from that fellow would

[11959]knock you into the middle of next week, man. But the best pucker for

[11960]science was Jem Corbet before Fitzsimons knocked the stuffings out of

[11961]him, dodging and all.

[11962]

[11963]In Grafton street Master Dignam saw a red flower in a toff’s mouth

[11964]and a swell pair of kicks on him and he listening to what the drunk was

[11965]telling him and grinning all the time.

[11966]

[11967]No Sandymount tram.

[11968]

[11969]Master Dignam walked along Nassau street, shifted the porksteaks to

[11970]his other hand. His collar sprang up again and he tugged it down. The

[11971]blooming stud was too small for the buttonhole of the shirt, blooming

[11972]end to it. He met schoolboys with satchels. I’m not going tomorrow

[11973]either, stay away till Monday. He met other schoolboys. Do they notice

[11974]I’m in mourning? Uncle Barney said he’d get it into the paper

[11975]tonight. Then they’ll all see it in the paper and read my name printed

[11976]and pa’s name.

[11977]

[11978]His face got all grey instead of being red like it was and there was a

[11979]fly walking over it up to his eye. The scrunch that was when they

[11980]were screwing the screws into the coffin: and the bumps when they were

[11981]bringing it downstairs.

[11982]

[11983]Pa was inside it and ma crying in the parlour and uncle Barney telling

[11984]the men how to get it round the bend. A big coffin it was, and high and

[11985]heavylooking. How was that? The last night pa was boosed he was standing

[11986]on the landing there bawling out for his boots to go out to Tunney’s

[11987]for to boose more and he looked butty and short in his shirt. Never see

[11988]him again. Death, that is. Pa is dead. My father is dead. He told me to

[11989]be a good son to ma. I couldn’t hear the other things he said but I

[11990]saw his tongue and his teeth trying to say it better. Poor pa. That was

[11991]Mr Dignam, my father. I hope he’s in purgatory now because he went to

[11992]confession to Father Conroy on Saturday night.

[11993]

[11994]William Humble, earl of Dudley, and lady Dudley, accompanied by

[11995]lieutenantcolonel Heseltine, drove out after luncheon from the viceregal

[11996]lodge. In the following carriage were the honourable Mrs Paget, Miss de

[11997]Courcy and the honourable Gerald Ward A. D. C. in attendance.

[11998]

[11999]The cavalcade passed out by the lower gate of Phoenix park saluted by

[12000]obsequious policemen and proceeded past Kingsbridge along the northern

[12001]quays. The viceroy was most cordially greeted on his way through the

[12002]metropolis. At Bloody bridge Mr Thomas Kernan beyond the river greeted

[12003]him vainly from afar. Between Queen’s and Whitworth bridges lord

[12004]Dudley’s viceregal carriages passed and were unsaluted by Mr

[12005]Dudley White, B. L., M. A., who stood on Arran quay outside Mrs M.

[12006]E. White’s, the pawnbroker’s, at the corner of Arran street west

[12007]stroking his nose with his forefinger, undecided whether he should

[12008]arrive at Phibsborough more quickly by a triple change of tram or by

[12009]hailing a car or on foot through Smithfield, Constitution hill and

[12010]Broadstone terminus. In the porch of Four Courts Richie Goulding with

[12011]the costbag of Goulding, Collis and Ward saw him with surprise.

[12012]Past Richmond bridge at the doorstep of the office of Reuben J Dodd,

[12013]solicitor, agent for the Patriotic Insurance Company, an elderly female

[12014]about to enter changed her plan and retracing her steps by King’s

[12015]windows smiled credulously on the representative of His Majesty. From

[12016]its sluice in Wood quay wall under Tom Devan’s office Poddle river

[12017]hung out in fealty a tongue of liquid sewage. Above the crossblind

[12018]of the Ormond hotel, gold by bronze, Miss Kennedy’s head by Miss

[12019]Douce’s head watched and admired. On Ormond quay Mr Simon Dedalus,

[12020]steering his way from the greenhouse for the subsheriff’s office,

[12021]stood still in midstreet and brought his hat low. His Excellency

[12022]graciously returned Mr Dedalus’ greeting. From Cahill’s corner the

[12023]reverend Hugh C. Love, M. A., made obeisance unperceived, mindful of

[12024]lords deputies whose hands benignant had held of yore rich advowsons. On

[12025]Grattan bridge Lenehan and M’Coy, taking leave of each other, watched

[12026]the carriages go by. Passing by Roger Greene’s office and Dollard’s

[12027]big red printinghouse Gerty MacDowell, carrying the Catesby’s cork

[12028]lino letters for her father who was laid up, knew by the style it was

[12029]the lord and lady lieutenant but she couldn’t see what Her Excellency

[12030]had on because the tram and Spring’s big yellow furniture van had to

[12031]stop in front of her on account of its being the lord lieutenant. Beyond

[12032]Lundy Foot’s from the shaded door of Kavanagh’s winerooms John Wyse

[12033]Nolan smiled with unseen coldness towards the lord lieutenantgeneral and

[12034]general governor of Ireland. The Right Honourable William Humble, earl

[12035]of Dudley, G. C. V. O., passed Micky Anderson’s all times ticking

[12036]watches and Henry and James’s wax smartsuited freshcheeked models, the

[12037]gentleman Henry, dernier cri James. Over against Dame gate Tom Rochford

[12038]and Nosey Flynn watched the approach of the cavalcade. Tom Rochford,

[12039]seeing the eyes of lady Dudley fixed on him, took his thumbs quickly

[12040]out of the pockets of his claret waistcoat and doffed his cap to her.

[12041]A charming soubrette, great Marie Kendall, with dauby cheeks and lifted

[12042]skirt smiled daubily from her poster upon William Humble, earl of

[12043]Dudley, and upon lieutenantcolonel H. G. Heseltine, and also upon the

[12044]honourable Gerald Ward A. D. C. From the window of the D. B. C. Buck

[12045]Mulligan gaily, and Haines gravely, gazed down on the viceregal equipage

[12046]over the shoulders of eager guests, whose mass of forms darkened the

[12047]chessboard whereon John Howard Parnell looked intently. In Fownes’s

[12048]street Dilly Dedalus, straining her sight upward from Chardenal’s

[12049]first French primer, saw sunshades spanned and wheelspokes spinning

[12050]in the glare. John Henry Menton, filling the doorway of Commercial

[12051]Buildings, stared from winebig oyster eyes, holding a fat gold hunter

[12052]watch not looked at in his fat left hand not feeling it. Where the

[12053]foreleg of King Billy’s horse pawed the air Mrs Breen plucked her

[12054]hastening husband back from under the hoofs of the outriders. She

[12055]shouted in his ear the tidings. Understanding, he shifted his tomes to

[12056]his left breast and saluted the second carriage. The honourable Gerald

[12057]Ward A. D. C., agreeably surprised, made haste to reply. At Ponsonby’s

[12058]corner a jaded white flagon H. halted and four tallhatted white

[12059]flagons halted behind him, E.L.Y.’S, while outriders pranced past

[12060]and carriages. Opposite Pigott’s music warerooms Mr Denis J Maginni,

[12061]professor of dancing &c, gaily apparelled, gravely walked, outpassed by

[12062]a viceroy and unobserved. By the provost’s wall came jauntily Blazes

[12063]Boylan, stepping in tan shoes and socks with skyblue clocks to the

[12064]refrain of My girl’s a Yorkshire girl.

[12065]

[12066]Blazes Boylan presented to the leaders’ skyblue frontlets and high

[12067]action a skyblue tie, a widebrimmed straw hat at a rakish angle and a

[12068]suit of indigo serge. His hands in his jacket pockets forgot to salute

[12069]but he offered to the three ladies the bold admiration of his eyes and

[12070]the red flower between his lips. As they drove along Nassau street His

[12071]Excellency drew the attention of his bowing consort to the programme of

[12072]music which was being discoursed in College park. Unseen brazen highland

[12073]laddies blared and drumthumped after the cortège:

[12074]

[12075] But though she’s a factory lass

[12076] And wears no fancy clothes.

[12077] Baraabum.

[12078] Yet I’ve a sort of a

[12079] Yorkshire relish for

[12080] My little Yorkshire rose.

[12081] Baraabum.

[12082]Thither of the wall the quartermile flat handicappers, M. C. Green, H.

[12083]Shrift, T. M. Patey, C. Scaife, J. B. Jeffs, G. N. Morphy, F. Stevenson,

[12084]C. Adderly and W. C. Huggard, started in pursuit. Striding past Finn’s

[12085]hotel Cashel Boyle O’Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell stared through

[12086]a fierce eyeglass across the carriages at the head of Mr M. E. Solomons

[12087]in the window of the Austro-Hungarian viceconsulate. Deep in Leinster

[12088]street by Trinity’s postern a loyal king’s man, Hornblower, touched

[12089]his tallyho cap. As the glossy horses pranced by Merrion square Master

[12090]Patrick Aloysius Dignam, waiting, saw salutes being given to the gent

[12091]with the topper and raised also his new black cap with fingers greased

[12092]by porksteak paper. His collar too sprang up. The viceroy, on his way

[12093]to inaugurate the Mirus bazaar in aid of funds for Mercer’s hospital,

[12094]drove with his following towards Lower Mount street. He passed a blind

[12095]stripling opposite Broadbent’s. In Lower Mount street a pedestrian in

[12096]a brown macintosh, eating dry bread, passed swiftly and unscathed across

[12097]the viceroy’s path. At the Royal Canal bridge, from his hoarding,

[12098]Mr Eugene Stratton, his blub lips agrin, bade all comers welcome to

[12099]Pembroke township. At Haddington road corner two sanded women halted

[12100]themselves, an umbrella and a bag in which eleven cockles rolled to view

[12101]with wonder the lord mayor and lady mayoress without his golden chain.

[12102]On Northumberland and Lansdowne roads His Excellency acknowledged

[12103]punctually salutes from rare male walkers, the salute of two small

[12104]schoolboys at the garden gate of the house said to have been admired

[12105]by the late queen when visiting the Irish capital with her husband, the

[12106]prince consort, in 1849 and the salute of Almidano Artifoni’s sturdy

[12107]trousers swallowed by a closing door.

[12108]

[12109]

[12110]

[12111]

[12112]

[12113]

Joyce's Ulysses Concordance

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10. Wandering Rocks