Joyce's Ulysses Concordance

12. Cyclops

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[14062][ 12 ]

[14063]

[14064]I was just passing the time of day with old Troy of the D. M. P. at the

[14065]corner of Arbour hill there and be damned but a bloody sweep came along

[14066]and he near drove his gear into my eye. I turned around to let him have

[14067]the weight of my tongue when who should I see dodging along Stony Batter

[14068]only Joe Hynes.

[14069]

[14070]—Lo, Joe, says I. How are you blowing? Did you see that bloody

[14071]chimneysweep near shove my eye out with his brush?

[14072]

[14073]—Soot’s luck, says Joe. Who’s the old ballocks you were talking

[14074]to?

[14075]

[14076]—Old Troy, says I, was in the force. I’m on two minds not to give

[14077]that fellow in charge for obstructing the thoroughfare with his brooms

[14078]and ladders.

[14079]

[14080]—What are you doing round those parts? says Joe.

[14081]

[14082]—Devil a much, says I. There’s a bloody big foxy thief beyond by the

[14083]garrison church at the corner of Chicken lane—old Troy was just giving

[14084]me a wrinkle about him—lifted any God’s quantity of tea and sugar

[14085]to pay three bob a week said he had a farm in the county Down off a

[14086]hop-of-my-thumb by the name of Moses Herzog over there near Heytesbury

[14087]street.

[14088]

[14089]—Circumcised? says Joe.

[14090]

[14091]—Ay, says I. A bit off the top. An old plumber named Geraghty. I’m

[14092]hanging on to his taw now for the past fortnight and I can’t get a

[14093]penny out of him.

[14094]

[14095]—That the lay you’re on now? says Joe.

[14096]

[14097]—Ay, says I. How are the mighty fallen! Collector of bad and doubtful

[14098]debts. But that’s the most notorious bloody robber you’d meet in a

[14099]day’s walk and the face on him all pockmarks would hold a shower of

[14100]rain. Tell him, says he, I dare him, says he, and I doubledare him

[14101]to send you round here again or if he does, says he, I’ll have him

[14102]summonsed up before the court, so I will, for trading without a licence.

[14103]And he after stuffing himself till he’s fit to burst. Jesus, I had to

[14104]laugh at the little jewy getting his shirt out. He drink me my teas. He

[14105]eat me my sugars. Because he no pay me my moneys?

[14106]

[14107]For nonperishable goods bought of Moses Herzog, of 13 Saint Kevin’s

[14108]parade in the city of Dublin, Wood quay ward, merchant, hereinafter

[14109]called the vendor, and sold and delivered to Michael E. Geraghty,

[14110]esquire, of 29 Arbour hill in the city of Dublin, Arran quay ward,

[14111]gentleman, hereinafter called the purchaser, videlicet, five pounds

[14112]avoirdupois of first choice tea at three shillings and no pence per

[14113]pound avoirdupois and three stone avoirdupois of sugar, crushed crystal,

[14114]at threepence per pound avoirdupois, the said purchaser debtor to the

[14115]said vendor of one pound five shillings and sixpence sterling for value

[14116]received which amount shall be paid by said purchaser to said vendor in

[14117]weekly instalments every seven calendar days of three shillings and no

[14118]pence sterling: and the said nonperishable goods shall not be pawned or

[14119]pledged or sold or otherwise alienated by the said purchaser but shall

[14120]be and remain and be held to be the sole and exclusive property of the

[14121]said vendor to be disposed of at his good will and pleasure until the

[14122]said amount shall have been duly paid by the said purchaser to the said

[14123]vendor in the manner herein set forth as this day hereby agreed between

[14124]the said vendor, his heirs, successors, trustees and assigns of the one

[14125]part and the said purchaser, his heirs, successors, trustees and assigns

[14126]of the other part.

[14127]

[14128]—Are you a strict t.t.? says Joe.

[14129]

[14130]—Not taking anything between drinks, says I.

[14131]

[14132]—What about paying our respects to our friend? says Joe.

[14133]

[14134]—Who? says I. Sure, he’s out in John of God’s off his head, poor

[14135]man.

[14136]

[14137]—Drinking his own stuff? says Joe.

[14138]

[14139]—Ay, says I. Whisky and water on the brain.

[14140]

[14141]—Come around to Barney Kiernan’s, says Joe. I want to see the

[14142]citizen.

[14143]

[14144]—Barney mavourneen’s be it, says I. Anything strange or wonderful,

[14145]Joe?

[14146]

[14147]—Not a word, says Joe. I was up at that meeting in the City Arms.

[14148]

[14149]—What was that, Joe? says I.

[14150]

[14151]—Cattle traders, says Joe, about the foot and mouth disease. I want to

[14152]give the citizen the hard word about it.

[14153]

[14154]So we went around by the Linenhall barracks and the back of the

[14155]courthouse talking of one thing or another. Decent fellow Joe when he

[14156]has it but sure like that he never has it. Jesus, I couldn’t get over

[14157]that bloody foxy Geraghty, the daylight robber. For trading without a

[14158]licence, says he.

[14159]

[14160]In Inisfail the fair there lies a land, the land of holy Michan. There

[14161]rises a watchtower beheld of men afar. There sleep the mighty dead as in

[14162]life they slept, warriors and princes of high renown. A pleasant land

[14163]it is in sooth of murmuring waters, fishful streams where sport the

[14164]gurnard, the plaice, the roach, the halibut, the gibbed haddock, the

[14165]grilse, the dab, the brill, the flounder, the pollock, the mixed coarse

[14166]fish generally and other denizens of the aqueous kingdom too numerous to

[14167]be enumerated. In the mild breezes of the west and of the east the lofty

[14168]trees wave in different directions their firstclass foliage, the wafty

[14169]sycamore, the Lebanonian cedar, the exalted planetree, the eugenic

[14170]eucalyptus and other ornaments of the arboreal world with which

[14171]that region is thoroughly well supplied. Lovely maidens sit in close

[14172]proximity to the roots of the lovely trees singing the most lovely songs

[14173]while they play with all kinds of lovely objects as for example golden

[14174]ingots, silvery fishes, crans of herrings, drafts of eels, codlings,

[14175]creels of fingerlings, purple seagems and playful insects. And heroes

[14176]voyage from afar to woo them, from Eblana to Slievemargy, the peerless

[14177]princes of unfettered Munster and of Connacht the just and of smooth

[14178]sleek Leinster and of Cruachan’s land and of Armagh the splendid and

[14179]of the noble district of Boyle, princes, the sons of kings.

[14180]

[14181]And there rises a shining palace whose crystal glittering roof is seen

[14182]by mariners who traverse the extensive sea in barks built expressly for

[14183]that purpose, and thither come all herds and fatlings and firstfruits

[14184]of that land for O’Connell Fitzsimon takes toll of them, a chieftain

[14185]descended from chieftains. Thither the extremely large wains bring

[14186]foison of the fields, flaskets of cauliflowers, floats of spinach,

[14187]pineapple chunks, Rangoon beans, strikes of tomatoes, drums of figs,

[14188]drills of Swedes, spherical potatoes and tallies of iridescent kale,

[14189]York and Savoy, and trays of onions, pearls of the earth, and punnets of

[14190]mushrooms and custard marrows and fat vetches and bere and rape and red

[14191]green yellow brown russet sweet big bitter ripe pomellated apples and

[14192]chips of strawberries and sieves of gooseberries, pulpy and pelurious,

[14193]and strawberries fit for princes and raspberries from their canes.

[14194]

[14195]I dare him, says he, and I doubledare him. Come out here, Geraghty, you

[14196]notorious bloody hill and dale robber!

[14197]

[14198]And by that way wend the herds innumerable of bellwethers and flushed

[14199]ewes and shearling rams and lambs and stubble geese and medium steers

[14200]and roaring mares and polled calves and longwools and storesheep and

[14201]Cuffe’s prime springers and culls and sowpigs and baconhogs and the

[14202]various different varieties of highly distinguished swine and Angus

[14203]heifers and polly bulllocks of immaculate pedigree together with prime

[14204]premiated milchcows and beeves: and there is ever heard a trampling,

[14205]cackling, roaring, lowing, bleating, bellowing, rumbling, grunting,

[14206]champing, chewing, of sheep and pigs and heavyhooved kine from

[14207]pasturelands of Lusk and Rush and Carrickmines and from the streamy

[14208]vales of Thomond, from the M’Gillicuddy’s reeks the inaccessible and

[14209]lordly Shannon the unfathomable, and from the gentle declivities of the

[14210]place of the race of Kiar, their udders distended with superabundance

[14211]of milk and butts of butter and rennets of cheese and farmer’s firkins

[14212]and targets of lamb and crannocks of corn and oblong eggs in great

[14213]hundreds, various in size, the agate with this dun.

[14214]

[14215]So we turned into Barney Kiernan’s and there, sure enough, was the

[14216]citizen up in the corner having a great confab with himself and that

[14217]bloody mangy mongrel, Garryowen, and he waiting for what the sky would

[14218]drop in the way of drink.

[14219]

[14220]—There he is, says I, in his gloryhole, with his cruiskeen lawn and

[14221]his load of papers, working for the cause.

[14222]

[14223]The bloody mongrel let a grouse out of him would give you the creeps. Be

[14224]a corporal work of mercy if someone would take the life of that bloody

[14225]dog. I’m told for a fact he ate a good part of the breeches off a

[14226]constabulary man in Santry that came round one time with a blue paper

[14227]about a licence.

[14228]

[14229]—Stand and deliver, says he.

[14230]

[14231]—That’s all right, citizen, says Joe. Friends here.

[14232]

[14233]—Pass, friends, says he.

[14234]

[14235]Then he rubs his hand in his eye and says he:

[14236]

[14237]—What’s your opinion of the times?

[14238]

[14239]Doing the rapparee and Rory of the hill. But, begob, Joe was equal to

[14240]the occasion.

[14241]

[14242]—I think the markets are on a rise, says he, sliding his hand down his

[14243]fork.

[14244]

[14245]So begob the citizen claps his paw on his knee and he says:

[14246]

[14247]—Foreign wars is the cause of it.

[14248]

[14249]And says Joe, sticking his thumb in his pocket:

[14250]

[14251]—It’s the Russians wish to tyrannise.

[14252]

[14253]—Arrah, give over your bloody codding, Joe, says I. I’ve a thirst on

[14254]me I wouldn’t sell for half a crown.

[14255]

[14256]—Give it a name, citizen, says Joe.

[14257]

[14258]—Wine of the country, says he.

[14259]

[14260]—What’s yours? says Joe.

[14261]

[14262]—Ditto MacAnaspey, says I.

[14263]

[14264]—Three pints, Terry, says Joe. And how’s the old heart, citizen?

[14265]says he.

[14266]

[14267]—Never better, a chara, says he. What Garry? Are we going to win? Eh?

[14268]

[14269]And with that he took the bloody old towser by the scruff of the neck

[14270]and, by Jesus, he near throttled him.

[14271]

[14272]The figure seated on a large boulder at the foot of a round tower was

[14273]that of a broadshouldered deepchested stronglimbed frankeyed redhaired

[14274]freelyfreckled shaggybearded widemouthed largenosed longheaded

[14275]deepvoiced barekneed brawnyhanded hairylegged ruddyfaced sinewyarmed

[14276]hero. From shoulder to shoulder he measured several ells and his

[14277]rocklike mountainous knees were covered, as was likewise the rest of his

[14278]body wherever visible, with a strong growth of tawny prickly hair in

[14279]hue and toughness similar to the mountain gorse (Ulex Europeus).

[14280]The widewinged nostrils, from which bristles of the same tawny hue

[14281]projected, were of such capaciousness that within their cavernous

[14282]obscurity the fieldlark might easily have lodged her nest. The eyes

[14283]in which a tear and a smile strove ever for the mastery were of the

[14284]dimensions of a goodsized cauliflower. A powerful current of warm breath

[14285]issued at regular intervals from the profound cavity of his mouth

[14286]while in rhythmic resonance the loud strong hale reverberations of his

[14287]formidable heart thundered rumblingly causing the ground, the summit of

[14288]the lofty tower and the still loftier walls of the cave to vibrate and

[14289]tremble.

[14290]

[14291]He wore a long unsleeved garment of recently flayed oxhide reaching

[14292]to the knees in a loose kilt and this was bound about his middle by

[14293]a girdle of plaited straw and rushes. Beneath this he wore trews of

[14294]deerskin, roughly stitched with gut. His nether extremities were encased

[14295]in high Balbriggan buskins dyed in lichen purple, the feet being shod

[14296]with brogues of salted cowhide laced with the windpipe of the same

[14297]beast. From his girdle hung a row of seastones which jangled at every

[14298]movement of his portentous frame and on these were graven with rude

[14299]yet striking art the tribal images of many Irish heroes and heroines of

[14300]antiquity, Cuchulin, Conn of hundred battles, Niall of nine hostages,

[14301]Brian of Kincora, the ardri Malachi, Art MacMurragh, Shane O’Neill,

[14302]Father John Murphy, Owen Roe, Patrick Sarsfield, Red Hugh O’Donnell,

[14303]Red Jim MacDermott, Soggarth Eoghan O’Growney, Michael Dwyer, Francy

[14304]Higgins, Henry Joy M’Cracken, Goliath, Horace Wheatley, Thomas

[14305]Conneff, Peg Woffington, the Village Blacksmith, Captain Moonlight,

[14306]Captain Boycott, Dante Alighieri, Christopher Columbus, S. Fursa, S.

[14307]Brendan, Marshal MacMahon, Charlemagne, Theobald Wolfe Tone, the Mother

[14308]of the Maccabees, the Last of the Mohicans, the Rose of Castile, the Man

[14309]for Galway, The Man that Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo, The Man in the

[14310]Gap, The Woman Who Didn’t, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John

[14311]L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus,

[14312]sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the

[14313]Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen,

[14314]Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio

[14315]Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales,

[14316]Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin,

[14317]Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee,

[14318]Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and

[14319]Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller,

[14320]Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil

[14321]Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta,

[14322]Jeremiah O’Donovan Rossa, Don Philip O’Sullivan Beare. A couched

[14323]spear of acuminated granite rested by him while at his feet reposed a

[14324]savage animal of the canine tribe whose stertorous gasps announced that

[14325]he was sunk in uneasy slumber, a supposition confirmed by hoarse growls

[14326]and spasmodic movements which his master repressed from time to time

[14327]by tranquilising blows of a mighty cudgel rudely fashioned out of

[14328]paleolithic stone.

[14329]

[14330]So anyhow Terry brought the three pints Joe was standing and begob the

[14331]sight nearly left my eyes when I saw him land out a quid. O, as true as

[14332]I’m telling you. A goodlooking sovereign.

[14333]

[14334]—And there’s more where that came from, says he.

[14335]

[14336]—Were you robbing the poorbox, Joe? says I.

[14337]

[14338]—Sweat of my brow, says Joe. ’Twas the prudent member gave me the

[14339]wheeze.

[14340]

[14341]—I saw him before I met you, says I, sloping around by Pill lane and

[14342]Greek street with his cod’s eye counting up all the guts of the fish.

[14343]

[14344]Who comes through Michan’s land, bedight in sable armour? O’Bloom,

[14345]the son of Rory: it is he. Impervious to fear is Rory’s son: he of the

[14346]prudent soul.

[14347]

[14348]—For the old woman of Prince’s street, says the citizen, the

[14349]subsidised organ. The pledgebound party on the floor of the house. And

[14350]look at this blasted rag, says he. Look at this, says he. The Irish

[14351]Independent, if you please, founded by Parnell to be the workingman’s

[14352]friend. Listen to the births and deaths in the Irish all for Ireland

[14353]Independent, and I’ll thank you and the marriages.

[14354]

[14355]And he starts reading them out:

[14356]

[14357]—Gordon, Barnfield crescent, Exeter; Redmayne of Iffley, Saint

[14358]Anne’s on Sea: the wife of William T Redmayne of a son. How’s that,

[14359]eh? Wright and Flint, Vincent and Gillett to Rotha Marion daughter of

[14360]Rosa and the late George Alfred Gillett, 179 Clapham road, Stockwell,

[14361]Playwood and Ridsdale at Saint Jude’s, Kensington by the very reverend

[14362]Dr Forrest, dean of Worcester. Eh? Deaths. Bristow, at Whitehall lane,

[14363]London: Carr, Stoke Newington, of gastritis and heart disease: Cockburn,

[14364]at the Moat house, Chepstow...

[14365]

[14366]—I know that fellow, says Joe, from bitter experience.

[14367]

[14368]—Cockburn. Dimsey, wife of David Dimsey, late of the admiralty:

[14369]Miller, Tottenham, aged eightyfive: Welsh, June 12, at 35 Canning

[14370]street, Liverpool, Isabella Helen. How’s that for a national press,

[14371]eh, my brown son! How’s that for Martin Murphy, the Bantry jobber?

[14372]

[14373]—Ah, well, says Joe, handing round the boose. Thanks be to God they

[14374]had the start of us. Drink that, citizen.

[14375]

[14376]—I will, says he, honourable person.

[14377]

[14378]—Health, Joe, says I. And all down the form.

[14379]

[14380]Ah! Ow! Don’t be talking! I was blue mouldy for the want of that pint.

[14381]Declare to God I could hear it hit the pit of my stomach with a click.

[14382]

[14383]And lo, as they quaffed their cup of joy, a godlike messenger came

[14384]swiftly in, radiant as the eye of heaven, a comely youth and behind him

[14385]there passed an elder of noble gait and countenance, bearing the sacred

[14386]scrolls of law and with him his lady wife a dame of peerless lineage,

[14387]fairest of her race.

[14388]

[14389]Little Alf Bergan popped in round the door and hid behind Barney’s

[14390]snug, squeezed up with the laughing. And who was sitting up there in the

[14391]corner that I hadn’t seen snoring drunk blind to the world only Bob

[14392]Doran. I didn’t know what was up and Alf kept making signs out of the

[14393]door. And begob what was it only that bloody old pantaloon Denis Breen

[14394]in his bathslippers with two bloody big books tucked under his oxter and

[14395]the wife hotfoot after him, unfortunate wretched woman, trotting like a

[14396]poodle. I thought Alf would split.

[14397]

[14398]—Look at him, says he. Breen. He’s traipsing all round Dublin with a

[14399]postcard someone sent him with U. p: up on it to take a li...

[14400]

[14401]And he doubled up.

[14402]

[14403]—Take a what? says I.

[14404]

[14405]—Libel action, says he, for ten thousand pounds.

[14406]

[14407]—O hell! says I.

[14408]

[14409]The bloody mongrel began to growl that’d put the fear of God in you

[14410]seeing something was up but the citizen gave him a kick in the ribs.

[14411]

[14412]—Bi i dho husht, says he.

[14413]

[14414]—Who? says Joe.

[14415]

[14416]—Breen, says Alf. He was in John Henry Menton’s and then he went

[14417]round to Collis and Ward’s and then Tom Rochford met him and sent him

[14418]round to the subsheriff’s for a lark. O God, I’ve a pain laughing.

[14419]U. p: up. The long fellow gave him an eye as good as a process and now

[14420]the bloody old lunatic is gone round to Green street to look for a G

[14421]man.

[14422]

[14423]—When is long John going to hang that fellow in Mountjoy? says Joe.

[14424]

[14425]—Bergan, says Bob Doran, waking up. Is that Alf Bergan?

[14426]

[14427]—Yes, says Alf. Hanging? Wait till I show you. Here, Terry, give us

[14428]a pony. That bloody old fool! Ten thousand pounds. You should have seen

[14429]long John’s eye. U. p ....

[14430]

[14431]And he started laughing.

[14432]

[14433]—Who are you laughing at? says Bob Doran. Is that Bergan?

[14434]

[14435]—Hurry up, Terry boy, says Alf.

[14436]

[14437]Terence O’Ryan heard him and straightway brought him a crystal cup

[14438]full of the foamy ebon ale which the noble twin brothers Bungiveagh and

[14439]Bungardilaun brew ever in their divine alevats, cunning as the sons of

[14440]deathless Leda. For they garner the succulent berries of the hop and

[14441]mass and sift and bruise and brew them and they mix therewith sour

[14442]juices and bring the must to the sacred fire and cease not night or day

[14443]from their toil, those cunning brothers, lords of the vat.

[14444]

[14445]Then did you, chivalrous Terence, hand forth, as to the manner born,

[14446]that nectarous beverage and you offered the crystal cup to him that

[14447]thirsted, the soul of chivalry, in beauty akin to the immortals.

[14448]

[14449]But he, the young chief of the O’Bergan’s, could ill brook to be

[14450]outdone in generous deeds but gave therefor with gracious gesture a

[14451]testoon of costliest bronze. Thereon embossed in excellent smithwork

[14452]was seen the image of a queen of regal port, scion of the house of

[14453]Brunswick, Victoria her name, Her Most Excellent Majesty, by grace

[14454]of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the

[14455]British dominions beyond the sea, queen, defender of the faith, Empress

[14456]of India, even she, who bore rule, a victress over many peoples, the

[14457]wellbeloved, for they knew and loved her from the rising of the sun to

[14458]the going down thereof, the pale, the dark, the ruddy and the ethiop.

[14459]

[14460]—What’s that bloody freemason doing, says the citizen, prowling up

[14461]and down outside?

[14462]

[14463]—What’s that? says Joe.

[14464]

[14465]—Here you are, says Alf, chucking out the rhino. Talking about

[14466]hanging, I’ll show you something you never saw. Hangmen’s letters.

[14467]Look at here.

[14468]

[14469]So he took a bundle of wisps of letters and envelopes out of his pocket.

[14470]

[14471]—Are you codding? says I.

[14472]

[14473]—Honest injun, says Alf. Read them.

[14474]

[14475]So Joe took up the letters.

[14476]

[14477]—Who are you laughing at? says Bob Doran.

[14478]

[14479]So I saw there was going to be a bit of a dust. Bob’s a queer chap

[14480]when the porter’s up in him so says I just to make talk:

[14481]

[14482]—How’s Willy Murray those times, Alf?

[14483]

[14484]—I don’t know, says Alf. I saw him just now in Capel street with

[14485]Paddy Dignam. Only I was running after that...

[14486]

[14487]—You what? says Joe, throwing down the letters. With who?

[14488]

[14489]—With Dignam, says Alf.

[14490]

[14491]—Is it Paddy? says Joe.

[14492]

[14493]—Yes, says Alf. Why?

[14494]

[14495]—Don’t you know he’s dead? says Joe.

[14496]

[14497]—Paddy Dignam dead! says Alf.

[14498]

[14499]—Ay, says Joe.

[14500]

[14501]—Sure I’m after seeing him not five minutes ago, says Alf, as plain

[14502]as a pikestaff.

[14503]

[14504]—Who’s dead? says Bob Doran.

[14505]

[14506]—You saw his ghost then, says Joe, God between us and harm.

[14507]

[14508]—What? says Alf. Good Christ, only five... What?... And Willy Murray

[14509]with him, the two of them there near whatdoyoucallhim’s... What?

[14510]Dignam dead?

[14511]

[14512]—What about Dignam? says Bob Doran. Who’s talking about...?

[14513]

[14514]—Dead! says Alf. He’s no more dead than you are.

[14515]

[14516]—Maybe so, says Joe. They took the liberty of burying him this morning

[14517]anyhow.

[14518]

[14519]—Paddy? says Alf.

[14520]

[14521]—Ay, says Joe. He paid the debt of nature, God be merciful to him.

[14522]

[14523]—Good Christ! says Alf.

[14524]

[14525]Begob he was what you might call flabbergasted.

[14526]

[14527]In the darkness spirit hands were felt to flutter and when prayer by

[14528]tantras had been directed to the proper quarter a faint but increasing

[14529]luminosity of ruby light became gradually visible, the apparition of

[14530]the etheric double being particularly lifelike owing to the discharge

[14531]of jivic rays from the crown of the head and face. Communication was

[14532]effected through the pituitary body and also by means of the orangefiery

[14533]and scarlet rays emanating from the sacral region and solar plexus.

[14534]Questioned by his earthname as to his whereabouts in the heavenworld he

[14535]stated that he was now on the path of pralaya or return but was still

[14536]submitted to trial at the hands of certain bloodthirsty entities on the

[14537]lower astral levels. In reply to a question as to his first sensations

[14538]in the great divide beyond he stated that previously he had seen as in a

[14539]glass darkly but that those who had passed over had summit possibilities

[14540]of atmic development opened up to them. Interrogated as to whether life

[14541]there resembled our experience in the flesh he stated that he had heard

[14542]from more favoured beings now in the spirit that their abodes were

[14543]equipped with every modern home comfort such as talafana, alavatar,

[14544]hatakalda, wataklasat and that the highest adepts were steeped in

[14545]waves of volupcy of the very purest nature. Having requested a quart of

[14546]buttermilk this was brought and evidently afforded relief. Asked if he

[14547]had any message for the living he exhorted all who were still at the

[14548]wrong side of Maya to acknowledge the true path for it was reported

[14549]in devanic circles that Mars and Jupiter were out for mischief on the

[14550]eastern angle where the ram has power. It was then queried whether there

[14551]were any special desires on the part of the defunct and the reply was:

[14552]We greet you, friends of earth, who are still in the body. Mind C. K.

[14553]doesn’t pile it on. It was ascertained that the reference was to

[14554]Mr Cornelius Kelleher, manager of Messrs H. J. O’Neill’s popular

[14555]funeral establishment, a personal friend of the defunct, who had been

[14556]responsible for the carrying out of the interment arrangements. Before

[14557]departing he requested that it should be told to his dear son Patsy that

[14558]the other boot which he had been looking for was at present under

[14559]the commode in the return room and that the pair should be sent to

[14560]Cullen’s to be soled only as the heels were still good. He stated that

[14561]this had greatly perturbed his peace of mind in the other region and

[14562]earnestly requested that his desire should be made known.

[14563]

[14564]Assurances were given that the matter would be attended to and it was

[14565]intimated that this had given satisfaction.

[14566]

[14567]He is gone from mortal haunts: O’Dignam, sun of our morning. Fleet was

[14568]his foot on the bracken: Patrick of the beamy brow. Wail, Banba, with

[14569]your wind: and wail, O ocean, with your whirlwind.

[14570]

[14571]—There he is again, says the citizen, staring out.

[14572]

[14573]—Who? says I.

[14574]

[14575]—Bloom, says he. He’s on point duty up and down there for the last

[14576]ten minutes.

[14577]

[14578]And, begob, I saw his physog do a peep in and then slidder off again.

[14579]

[14580]Little Alf was knocked bawways. Faith, he was.

[14581]

[14582]—Good Christ! says he. I could have sworn it was him.

[14583]

[14584]And says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest

[14585]blackguard in Dublin when he’s under the influence:

[14586]

[14587]—Who said Christ is good?

[14588]

[14589]—I beg your parsnips, says Alf.

[14590]

[14591]—Is that a good Christ, says Bob Doran, to take away poor little Willy

[14592]Dignam?

[14593]

[14594]—Ah, well, says Alf, trying to pass it off. He’s over all his

[14595]troubles.

[14596]

[14597]But Bob Doran shouts out of him.

[14598]

[14599]—He’s a bloody ruffian, I say, to take away poor little Willy

[14600]Dignam.

[14601]

[14602]Terry came down and tipped him the wink to keep quiet, that they

[14603]didn’t want that kind of talk in a respectable licensed premises. And

[14604]Bob Doran starts doing the weeps about Paddy Dignam, true as you’re

[14605]there.

[14606]

[14607]—The finest man, says he, snivelling, the finest purest character.

[14608]

[14609]The tear is bloody near your eye. Talking through his bloody hat. Fitter

[14610]for him go home to the little sleepwalking bitch he married, Mooney,

[14611]the bumbailiff’s daughter, mother kept a kip in Hardwicke street, that

[14612]used to be stravaging about the landings Bantam Lyons told me that was

[14613]stopping there at two in the morning without a stitch on her, exposing

[14614]her person, open to all comers, fair field and no favour.

[14615]

[14616]—The noblest, the truest, says he. And he’s gone, poor little Willy,

[14617]poor little Paddy Dignam.

[14618]

[14619]And mournful and with a heavy heart he bewept the extinction of that

[14620]beam of heaven.

[14621]

[14622]Old Garryowen started growling again at Bloom that was skeezing round

[14623]the door.

[14624]

[14625]—Come in, come on, he won’t eat you, says the citizen.

[14626]

[14627]So Bloom slopes in with his cod’s eye on the dog and he asks Terry was

[14628]Martin Cunningham there.

[14629]

[14630]—O, Christ M’Keown, says Joe, reading one of the letters. Listen to

[14631]this, will you?

[14632]

[14633]And he starts reading out one.

[14634]

[14635] 7 Hunter Street,

[14636] Liverpool.

[14637] To the High Sheriff of Dublin,

[14638] Dublin.

[14639]Honoured sir i beg to offer my services in the abovementioned painful

[14640]case i hanged Joe Gann in Bootle jail on the 12 of Febuary 1900 and i

[14641]hanged...

[14642]

[14643]—Show us, Joe, says I.

[14644]

[14645]—... private Arthur Chace for fowl murder of Jessie Tilsit in

[14646]Pentonville prison and i was assistant when...

[14647]

[14648]—Jesus, says I.

[14649]

[14650]—... Billington executed the awful murderer Toad Smith...

[14651]

[14652]The citizen made a grab at the letter.

[14653]

[14654]—Hold hard, says Joe, i have a special nack of putting the noose once

[14655]in he can’t get out hoping to be favoured i remain, honoured sir, my

[14656]terms is five ginnees.

[14657]

[14658] H. Rumbold,

[14659] Master Barber.

[14660]—And a barbarous bloody barbarian he is too, says the citizen.

[14661]

[14662]—And the dirty scrawl of the wretch, says Joe. Here, says he, take

[14663]them to hell out of my sight, Alf. Hello, Bloom, says he, what will you

[14664]have?

[14665]

[14666]So they started arguing about the point, Bloom saying he wouldn’t and

[14667]he couldn’t and excuse him no offence and all to that and then he

[14668]said well he’d just take a cigar. Gob, he’s a prudent member and no

[14669]mistake.

[14670]

[14671]—Give us one of your prime stinkers, Terry, says Joe.

[14672]

[14673]And Alf was telling us there was one chap sent in a mourning card with a

[14674]black border round it.

[14675]

[14676]—They’re all barbers, says he, from the black country that would

[14677]hang their own fathers for five quid down and travelling expenses.

[14678]

[14679]And he was telling us there’s two fellows waiting below to pull his

[14680]heels down when he gets the drop and choke him properly and then they

[14681]chop up the rope after and sell the bits for a few bob a skull.

[14682]

[14683]In the dark land they bide, the vengeful knights of the razor. Their

[14684]deadly coil they grasp: yea, and therein they lead to Erebus whatsoever

[14685]wight hath done a deed of blood for I will on nowise suffer it even so

[14686]saith the Lord.

[14687]

[14688]So they started talking about capital punishment and of course Bloom

[14689]comes out with the why and the wherefore and all the codology of the

[14690]business and the old dog smelling him all the time I’m told those

[14691]jewies does have a sort of a queer odour coming off them for dogs about

[14692]I don’t know what all deterrent effect and so forth and so on.

[14693]

[14694]—There’s one thing it hasn’t a deterrent effect on, says Alf.

[14695]

[14696]—What’s that? says Joe.

[14697]

[14698]—The poor bugger’s tool that’s being hanged, says Alf.

[14699]

[14700]—That so? says Joe.

[14701]

[14702]—God’s truth, says Alf. I heard that from the head warder that was

[14703]in Kilmainham when they hanged Joe Brady, the invincible. He told me

[14704]when they cut him down after the drop it was standing up in their faces

[14705]like a poker.

[14706]

[14707]—Ruling passion strong in death, says Joe, as someone said.

[14708]

[14709]—That can be explained by science, says Bloom. It’s only a natural

[14710]phenomenon, don’t you see, because on account of the...

[14711]

[14712]And then he starts with his jawbreakers about phenomenon and science and

[14713]this phenomenon and the other phenomenon.

[14714]

[14715]The distinguished scientist Herr Professor Luitpold Blumenduft tendered

[14716]medical evidence to the effect that the instantaneous fracture of the

[14717]cervical vertebrae and consequent scission of the spinal cord would,

[14718]according to the best approved tradition of medical science, be

[14719]calculated to inevitably produce in the human subject a violent

[14720]ganglionic stimulus of the nerve centres of the genital apparatus,

[14721]thereby causing the elastic pores of the corpora cavernosa to rapidly

[14722]dilate in such a way as to instantaneously facilitate the flow of blood

[14723]to that part of the human anatomy known as the penis or male organ

[14724]resulting in the phenomenon which has been denominated by the faculty a

[14725]morbid upwards and outwards philoprogenitive erection in articulo mortis

[14726]per diminutionem capitis.

[14727]

[14728]So of course the citizen was only waiting for the wink of the word and

[14729]he starts gassing out of him about the invincibles and the old guard and

[14730]the men of sixtyseven and who fears to speak of ninetyeight and Joe with

[14731]him about all the fellows that were hanged, drawn and transported for

[14732]the cause by drumhead courtmartial and a new Ireland and new this, that

[14733]and the other. Talking about new Ireland he ought to go and get a new

[14734]dog so he ought. Mangy ravenous brute sniffing and sneezing all round

[14735]the place and scratching his scabs. And round he goes to Bob Doran that

[14736]was standing Alf a half one sucking up for what he could get. So of

[14737]course Bob Doran starts doing the bloody fool with him:

[14738]

[14739]—Give us the paw! Give the paw, doggy! Good old doggy! Give the paw

[14740]here! Give us the paw!

[14741]

[14742]Arrah, bloody end to the paw he’d paw and Alf trying to keep him from

[14743]tumbling off the bloody stool atop of the bloody old dog and he talking

[14744]all kinds of drivel about training by kindness and thoroughbred dog and

[14745]intelligent dog: give you the bloody pip. Then he starts scraping a few

[14746]bits of old biscuit out of the bottom of a Jacobs’ tin he told Terry

[14747]to bring. Gob, he golloped it down like old boots and his tongue hanging

[14748]out of him a yard long for more. Near ate the tin and all, hungry bloody

[14749]mongrel.

[14750]

[14751]And the citizen and Bloom having an argument about the point, the

[14752]brothers Sheares and Wolfe Tone beyond on Arbour Hill and Robert Emmet

[14753]and die for your country, the Tommy Moore touch about Sara Curran and

[14754]she’s far from the land. And Bloom, of course, with his knockmedown

[14755]cigar putting on swank with his lardy face. Phenomenon! The fat heap he

[14756]married is a nice old phenomenon with a back on her like a ballalley.

[14757]Time they were stopping up in the City Arms pisser Burke told me there

[14758]was an old one there with a cracked loodheramaun of a nephew and

[14759]Bloom trying to get the soft side of her doing the mollycoddle playing

[14760]bézique to come in for a bit of the wampum in her will and not eating

[14761]meat of a Friday because the old one was always thumping her craw and

[14762]taking the lout out for a walk. And one time he led him the rounds of

[14763]Dublin and, by the holy farmer, he never cried crack till he brought

[14764]him home as drunk as a boiled owl and he said he did it to teach him the

[14765]evils of alcohol and by herrings, if the three women didn’t near roast

[14766]him, it’s a queer story, the old one, Bloom’s wife and Mrs O’Dowd

[14767]that kept the hotel. Jesus, I had to laugh at pisser Burke taking them

[14768]off chewing the fat. And Bloom with his but don’t you see? and but

[14769]on the other hand. And sure, more be token, the lout I’m told was

[14770]in Power’s after, the blender’s, round in Cope street going home

[14771]footless in a cab five times in the week after drinking his way through

[14772]all the samples in the bloody establishment. Phenomenon!

[14773]

[14774]—The memory of the dead, says the citizen taking up his pintglass and

[14775]glaring at Bloom.

[14776]

[14777]—Ay, ay, says Joe.

[14778]

[14779]—You don’t grasp my point, says Bloom. What I mean is...

[14780]

[14781]—Sinn Fein! says the citizen. Sinn Fein amhain! The friends we love

[14782]are by our side and the foes we hate before us.

[14783]

[14784]The last farewell was affecting in the extreme. From the belfries far

[14785]and near the funereal deathbell tolled unceasingly while all around the

[14786]gloomy precincts rolled the ominous warning of a hundred muffled drums

[14787]punctuated by the hollow booming of pieces of ordnance. The deafening

[14788]claps of thunder and the dazzling flashes of lightning which lit up

[14789]the ghastly scene testified that the artillery of heaven had lent its

[14790]supernatural pomp to the already gruesome spectacle. A torrential rain

[14791]poured down from the floodgates of the angry heavens upon the

[14792]bared heads of the assembled multitude which numbered at the

[14793]lowest computation five hundred thousand persons. A posse of Dublin

[14794]Metropolitan police superintended by the Chief Commissioner in person

[14795]maintained order in the vast throng for whom the York street brass and

[14796]reed band whiled away the intervening time by admirably rendering on

[14797]their blackdraped instruments the matchless melody endeared to us from

[14798]the cradle by Speranza’s plaintive muse. Special quick excursion

[14799]trains and upholstered charabancs had been provided for the comfort of

[14800]our country cousins of whom there were large contingents. Considerable

[14801]amusement was caused by the favourite Dublin streetsingers L-n-h-n and

[14802]M-ll-g-n who sang The Night before Larry was stretched in their usual

[14803]mirth-provoking fashion. Our two inimitable drolls did a roaring trade

[14804]with their broadsheets among lovers of the comedy element and nobody

[14805]who has a corner in his heart for real Irish fun without vulgarity

[14806]will grudge them their hardearned pennies. The children of the Male and

[14807]Female Foundling Hospital who thronged the windows overlooking the

[14808]scene were delighted with this unexpected addition to the day’s

[14809]entertainment and a word of praise is due to the Little Sisters of

[14810]the Poor for their excellent idea of affording the poor fatherless

[14811]and motherless children a genuinely instructive treat. The viceregal

[14812]houseparty which included many wellknown ladies was chaperoned by Their

[14813]Excellencies to the most favourable positions on the grandstand while

[14814]the picturesque foreign delegation known as the Friends of the Emerald

[14815]Isle was accommodated on a tribune directly opposite. The delegation,

[14816]present in full force, consisted of Commendatore Bacibaci Beninobenone

[14817](the semiparalysed doyen of the party who had to be assisted to his

[14818]seat by the aid of a powerful steam crane), Monsieur Pierrepaul

[14819]Petitépatant, the Grandjoker Vladinmire Pokethankertscheff, the

[14820]Archjoker Leopold Rudolph von Schwanzenbad-Hodenthaler, Countess Marha

[14821]Virága Kisászony Putrápesthi, Hiram Y. Bomboost, Count Athanatos

[14822]Karamelopulos, Ali Baba Backsheesh Rahat Lokum Effendi, Señor Hidalgo

[14823]Caballero Don Pecadillo y Palabras y Paternoster de la Malora de la

[14824]Malaria, Hokopoko Harakiri, Hi Hung Chang, Olaf Kobberkeddelsen,

[14825]Mynheer Trik van Trumps, Pan Poleaxe Paddyrisky, Goosepond Prhklstr

[14826]Kratchinabritchisitch, Borus Hupinkoff, Herr

[14827]Hurhausdirektorpresident Hans Chuechli-Steuerli,

[14828]Nationalgymnasiummuseumsanatoriumandsuspensoriumsordinaryprivatdocentgeneralhistoryspecialprofessordoctor

[14829]Kriegfried Ueberallgemein. All the delegates without exception expressed

[14830]themselves in the strongest possible heterogeneous terms concerning

[14831]the nameless barbarity which they had been called upon to witness. An

[14832]animated altercation (in which all took part) ensued among the F. O.

[14833]T. E. I. as to whether the eighth or the ninth of March was the correct

[14834]date of the birth of Ireland’s patron saint. In the course of the

[14835]argument cannonballs, scimitars, boomerangs, blunderbusses, stinkpots,

[14836]meatchoppers, umbrellas, catapults, knuckledusters, sandbags, lumps

[14837]of pig iron were resorted to and blows were freely exchanged. The

[14838]baby policeman, Constable MacFadden, summoned by special courier from

[14839]Booterstown, quickly restored order and with lightning promptitude

[14840]proposed the seventeenth of the month as a solution equally honourable

[14841]for both contending parties. The readywitted ninefooter’s suggestion

[14842]at once appealed to all and was unanimously accepted. Constable

[14843]MacFadden was heartily congratulated by all the F. O. T. E. I., several

[14844]of whom were bleeding profusely. Commendatore Beninobenone having been

[14845]extricated from underneath the presidential armchair, it was explained

[14846]by his legal adviser Avvocato Pagamimi that the various articles

[14847]secreted in his thirtytwo pockets had been abstracted by him during the

[14848]affray from the pockets of his junior colleagues in the hope of bringing

[14849]them to their senses. The objects (which included several hundred

[14850]ladies’ and gentlemen’s gold and silver watches) were promptly

[14851]restored to their rightful owners and general harmony reigned supreme.

[14852]

[14853]Quietly, unassumingly Rumbold stepped on to the scaffold in faultless

[14854]morning dress and wearing his favourite flower, the Gladiolus Cruentus.

[14855]He announced his presence by that gentle Rumboldian cough which so many

[14856]have tried (unsuccessfully) to imitate—short, painstaking yet withal

[14857]so characteristic of the man. The arrival of the worldrenowned headsman

[14858]was greeted by a roar of acclamation from the huge concourse, the

[14859]viceregal ladies waving their handkerchiefs in their excitement while

[14860]the even more excitable foreign delegates cheered vociferously in a

[14861]medley of cries, hoch, banzai, eljen, zivio, chinchin, polla kronia,

[14862]hiphip, vive, Allah, amid which the ringing evviva of the delegate of

[14863]the land of song (a high double F recalling those piercingly

[14864]lovely notes with which the eunuch Catalani beglamoured our

[14865]greatgreatgrandmothers) was easily distinguishable. It was exactly

[14866]seventeen o’clock. The signal for prayer was then promptly given by

[14867]megaphone and in an instant all heads were bared, the commendatore’s

[14868]patriarchal sombrero, which has been in the possession of his family

[14869]since the revolution of Rienzi, being removed by his medical adviser

[14870]in attendance, Dr Pippi. The learned prelate who administered the last

[14871]comforts of holy religion to the hero martyr when about to pay the death

[14872]penalty knelt in a most christian spirit in a pool of rainwater, his

[14873]cassock above his hoary head, and offered up to the throne of grace

[14874]fervent prayers of supplication. Hard by the block stood the grim figure

[14875]of the executioner, his visage being concealed in a tengallon pot

[14876]with two circular perforated apertures through which his eyes glowered

[14877]furiously. As he awaited the fatal signal he tested the edge of his

[14878]horrible weapon by honing it upon his brawny forearm or decapitated

[14879]in rapid succession a flock of sheep which had been provided by the

[14880]admirers of his fell but necessary office. On a handsome mahogany table

[14881]near him were neatly arranged the quartering knife, the various

[14882]finely tempered disembowelling appliances (specially supplied by the

[14883]worldfamous firm of cutlers, Messrs John Round and Sons, Sheffield),

[14884]a terra cotta saucepan for the reception of the duodenum, colon,

[14885]blind intestine and appendix etc when successfully extracted and two

[14886]commodious milkjugs destined to receive the most precious blood of the

[14887]most precious victim. The housesteward of the amalgamated cats’ and

[14888]dogs’ home was in attendance to convey these vessels when replenished

[14889]to that beneficent institution. Quite an excellent repast consisting of

[14890]rashers and eggs, fried steak and onions, done to a nicety, delicious

[14891]hot breakfast rolls and invigorating tea had been considerately provided

[14892]by the authorities for the consumption of the central figure of the

[14893]tragedy who was in capital spirits when prepared for death and evinced

[14894]the keenest interest in the proceedings from beginning to end but he,

[14895]with an abnegation rare in these our times, rose nobly to the occasion

[14896]and expressed the dying wish (immediately acceded to) that the meal

[14897]should be divided in aliquot parts among the members of the sick and

[14898]indigent roomkeepers’ association as a token of his regard and esteem.

[14899]The nec and non plus ultra of emotion were reached when the blushing

[14900]bride elect burst her way through the serried ranks of the bystanders

[14901]and flung herself upon the muscular bosom of him who was about to be

[14902]launched into eternity for her sake. The hero folded her willowy form in

[14903]a loving embrace murmuring fondly Sheila, my own. Encouraged by this use

[14904]of her christian name she kissed passionately all the various suitable

[14905]areas of his person which the decencies of prison garb permitted her

[14906]ardour to reach. She swore to him as they mingled the salt streams of

[14907]their tears that she would ever cherish his memory, that she would never

[14908]forget her hero boy who went to his death with a song on his lips as if

[14909]he were but going to a hurling match in Clonturk park. She brought back

[14910]to his recollection the happy days of blissful childhood together on the

[14911]banks of Anna Liffey when they had indulged in the innocent pastimes

[14912]of the young and, oblivious of the dreadful present, they both laughed

[14913]heartily, all the spectators, including the venerable pastor, joining in

[14914]the general merriment. That monster audience simply rocked with delight.

[14915]But anon they were overcome with grief and clasped their hands for the

[14916]last time. A fresh torrent of tears burst from their lachrymal ducts

[14917]and the vast concourse of people, touched to the inmost core, broke

[14918]into heartrending sobs, not the least affected being the aged prebendary

[14919]himself. Big strong men, officers of the peace and genial giants of the

[14920]royal Irish constabulary, were making frank use of their handkerchiefs

[14921]and it is safe to say that there was not a dry eye in that record

[14922]assemblage. A most romantic incident occurred when a handsome young

[14923]Oxford graduate, noted for his chivalry towards the fair sex, stepped

[14924]forward and, presenting his visiting card, bankbook and genealogical

[14925]tree, solicited the hand of the hapless young lady, requesting her to

[14926]name the day, and was accepted on the spot. Every lady in the audience

[14927]was presented with a tasteful souvenir of the occasion in the shape of

[14928]a skull and crossbones brooch, a timely and generous act which evoked

[14929]a fresh outburst of emotion: and when the gallant young Oxonian (the

[14930]bearer, by the way, of one of the most timehonoured names in Albion’s

[14931]history) placed on the finger of his blushing fiancée an expensive

[14932]engagement ring with emeralds set in the form of a fourleaved shamrock

[14933]the excitement knew no bounds. Nay, even the stern provostmarshal,

[14934]lieutenantcolonel Tomkin-Maxwell ffrenchmullan Tomlinson, who presided

[14935]on the sad occasion, he who had blown a considerable number of sepoys

[14936]from the cannonmouth without flinching, could not now restrain his

[14937]natural emotion. With his mailed gauntlet he brushed away a furtive tear

[14938]and was overheard, by those privileged burghers who happened to be in

[14939]his immediate entourage, to murmur to himself in a faltering undertone:

[14940]

[14941]—God blimey if she aint a clinker, that there bleeding tart. Blimey it

[14942]makes me kind of bleeding cry, straight, it does, when I sees her cause

[14943]I thinks of my old mashtub what’s waiting for me down Limehouse way.

[14944]

[14945]So then the citizen begins talking about the Irish language and the

[14946]corporation meeting and all to that and the shoneens that can’t speak

[14947]their own language and Joe chipping in because he stuck someone for a

[14948]quid and Bloom putting in his old goo with his twopenny stump that

[14949]he cadged off of Joe and talking about the Gaelic league and the

[14950]antitreating league and drink, the curse of Ireland. Antitreating is

[14951]about the size of it. Gob, he’d let you pour all manner of drink down

[14952]his throat till the Lord would call him before you’d ever see the

[14953]froth of his pint. And one night I went in with a fellow into one of

[14954]their musical evenings, song and dance about she could get up on a truss

[14955]of hay she could my Maureen Lay and there was a fellow with a Ballyhooly

[14956]blue ribbon badge spiffing out of him in Irish and a lot of colleen

[14957]bawns going about with temperance beverages and selling medals

[14958]and oranges and lemonade and a few old dry buns, gob, flahoolagh

[14959]entertainment, don’t be talking. Ireland sober is Ireland free. And

[14960]then an old fellow starts blowing into his bagpipes and all the gougers

[14961]shuffling their feet to the tune the old cow died of. And one or two

[14962]sky pilots having an eye around that there was no goings on with the

[14963]females, hitting below the belt.

[14964]

[14965]So howandever, as I was saying, the old dog seeing the tin was empty

[14966]starts mousing around by Joe and me. I’d train him by kindness, so

[14967]I would, if he was my dog. Give him a rousing fine kick now and again

[14968]where it wouldn’t blind him.

[14969]

[14970]—Afraid he’ll bite you? says the citizen, jeering.

[14971]

[14972]—No, says I. But he might take my leg for a lamppost.

[14973]

[14974]So he calls the old dog over.

[14975]

[14976]—What’s on you, Garry? says he.

[14977]

[14978]Then he starts hauling and mauling and talking to him in Irish and the

[14979]old towser growling, letting on to answer, like a duet in the opera.

[14980]Such growling you never heard as they let off between them. Someone that

[14981]has nothing better to do ought to write a letter pro bono publico to the

[14982]papers about the muzzling order for a dog the like of that. Growling

[14983]and grousing and his eye all bloodshot from the drouth is in it and the

[14984]hydrophobia dropping out of his jaws.

[14985]

[14986]All those who are interested in the spread of human culture among the

[14987]lower animals (and their name is legion) should make a point of not

[14988]missing the really marvellous exhibition of cynanthropy given by the

[14989]famous old Irish red setter wolfdog formerly known by the sobriquet of

[14990]Garryowen and recently rechristened by his large circle of friends and

[14991]acquaintances Owen Garry. The exhibition, which is the result of years

[14992]of training by kindness and a carefully thoughtout dietary system,

[14993]comprises, among other achievements, the recitation of verse. Our

[14994]greatest living phonetic expert (wild horses shall not drag it from us!)

[14995]has left no stone unturned in his efforts to delucidate and compare the

[14996]verse recited and has found it bears a striking resemblance (the italics

[14997]are ours) to the ranns of ancient Celtic bards. We are not speaking so

[14998]much of those delightful lovesongs with which the writer who conceals

[14999]his identity under the graceful pseudonym of the Little Sweet Branch has

[15000]familiarised the bookloving world but rather (as a contributor D. O.

[15001]C. points out in an interesting communication published by an evening

[15002]contemporary) of the harsher and more personal note which is found in

[15003]the satirical effusions of the famous Raftery and of Donal MacConsidine

[15004]to say nothing of a more modern lyrist at present very much in the

[15005]public eye. We subjoin a specimen which has been rendered into English

[15006]by an eminent scholar whose name for the moment we are not at liberty

[15007]to disclose though we believe that our readers will find the topical

[15008]allusion rather more than an indication. The metrical system of

[15009]the canine original, which recalls the intricate alliterative and

[15010]isosyllabic rules of the Welsh englyn, is infinitely more complicated

[15011]but we believe our readers will agree that the spirit has been well

[15012]caught. Perhaps it should be added that the effect is greatly increased

[15013]if Owen’s verse be spoken somewhat slowly and indistinctly in a tone

[15014]suggestive of suppressed rancour.

[15015]

[15016] The curse of my curses

[15017] Seven days every day

[15018] And seven dry Thursdays

[15019] On you, Barney Kiernan,

[15020] Has no sup of water

[15021] To cool my courage,

[15022] And my guts red roaring

[15023] After Lowry’s lights.

[15024]So he told Terry to bring some water for the dog and, gob, you could

[15025]hear him lapping it up a mile off. And Joe asked him would he have

[15026]another.

[15027]

[15028]—I will, says he, a chara, to show there’s no ill feeling.

[15029]

[15030]Gob, he’s not as green as he’s cabbagelooking. Arsing around from

[15031]one pub to another, leaving it to your own honour, with old Giltrap’s

[15032]dog and getting fed up by the ratepayers and corporators. Entertainment

[15033]for man and beast. And says Joe:

[15034]

[15035]—Could you make a hole in another pint?

[15036]

[15037]—Could a swim duck? says I.

[15038]

[15039]—Same again, Terry, says Joe. Are you sure you won’t have anything

[15040]in the way of liquid refreshment? says he.

[15041]

[15042]—Thank you, no, says Bloom. As a matter of fact I just wanted to

[15043]meet Martin Cunningham, don’t you see, about this insurance of poor

[15044]Dignam’s. Martin asked me to go to the house. You see, he, Dignam, I

[15045]mean, didn’t serve any notice of the assignment on the company at the

[15046]time and nominally under the act the mortgagee can’t recover on the

[15047]policy.

[15048]

[15049]—Holy Wars, says Joe, laughing, that’s a good one if old Shylock is

[15050]landed. So the wife comes out top dog, what?

[15051]

[15052]—Well, that’s a point, says Bloom, for the wife’s admirers.

[15053]

[15054]—Whose admirers? says Joe.

[15055]

[15056]—The wife’s advisers, I mean, says Bloom.

[15057]

[15058]Then he starts all confused mucking it up about mortgagor under the act

[15059]like the lord chancellor giving it out on the bench and for the benefit

[15060]of the wife and that a trust is created but on the other hand that

[15061]Dignam owed Bridgeman the money and if now the wife or the widow

[15062]contested the mortgagee’s right till he near had the head of me addled

[15063]with his mortgagor under the act. He was bloody safe he wasn’t run in

[15064]himself under the act that time as a rogue and vagabond only he had a

[15065]friend in court. Selling bazaar tickets or what do you call it royal

[15066]Hungarian privileged lottery. True as you’re there. O, commend me to

[15067]an israelite! Royal and privileged Hungarian robbery.

[15068]

[15069]So Bob Doran comes lurching around asking Bloom to tell Mrs Dignam he

[15070]was sorry for her trouble and he was very sorry about the funeral and

[15071]to tell her that he said and everyone who knew him said that there was

[15072]never a truer, a finer than poor little Willy that’s dead to tell her.

[15073]Choking with bloody foolery. And shaking Bloom’s hand doing the tragic

[15074]to tell her that. Shake hands, brother. You’re a rogue and I’m

[15075]another.

[15076]

[15077]—Let me, said he, so far presume upon our acquaintance which, however

[15078]slight it may appear if judged by the standard of mere time, is founded,

[15079]as I hope and believe, on a sentiment of mutual esteem as to request of

[15080]you this favour. But, should I have overstepped the limits of reserve

[15081]let the sincerity of my feelings be the excuse for my boldness.

[15082]

[15083]—No, rejoined the other, I appreciate to the full the motives which

[15084]actuate your conduct and I shall discharge the office you entrust to

[15085]me consoled by the reflection that, though the errand be one of sorrow,

[15086]this proof of your confidence sweetens in some measure the bitterness of

[15087]the cup.

[15088]

[15089]—Then suffer me to take your hand, said he. The goodness of your

[15090]heart, I feel sure, will dictate to you better than my inadequate words

[15091]the expressions which are most suitable to convey an emotion whose

[15092]poignancy, were I to give vent to my feelings, would deprive me even of

[15093]speech.

[15094]

[15095]And off with him and out trying to walk straight. Boosed at five

[15096]o’clock. Night he was near being lagged only Paddy Leonard knew the

[15097]bobby, 14A. Blind to the world up in a shebeen in Bride street after

[15098]closing time, fornicating with two shawls and a bully on guard, drinking

[15099]porter out of teacups. And calling himself a Frenchy for the shawls,

[15100]Joseph Manuo, and talking against the Catholic religion, and he serving

[15101]mass in Adam and Eve’s when he was young with his eyes shut, who wrote

[15102]the new testament, and the old testament, and hugging and smugging. And

[15103]the two shawls killed with the laughing, picking his pockets, the bloody

[15104]fool and he spilling the porter all over the bed and the two shawls

[15105]screeching laughing at one another. How is your testament? Have you got

[15106]an old testament? Only Paddy was passing there, I tell you what. Then

[15107]see him of a Sunday with his little concubine of a wife, and she wagging

[15108]her tail up the aisle of the chapel with her patent boots on her,

[15109]no less, and her violets, nice as pie, doing the little lady. Jack

[15110]Mooney’s sister. And the old prostitute of a mother procuring rooms to

[15111]street couples. Gob, Jack made him toe the line. Told him if he didn’t

[15112]patch up the pot, Jesus, he’d kick the shite out of him.

[15113]

[15114]So Terry brought the three pints.

[15115]

[15116]—Here, says Joe, doing the honours. Here, citizen.

[15117]

[15118]—Slan leat, says he.

[15119]

[15120]—Fortune, Joe, says I. Good health, citizen.

[15121]

[15122]Gob, he had his mouth half way down the tumbler already. Want a small

[15123]fortune to keep him in drinks.

[15124]

[15125]—Who is the long fellow running for the mayoralty, Alf? says Joe.

[15126]

[15127]—Friend of yours, says Alf.

[15128]

[15129]—Nannan? says Joe. The mimber?

[15130]

[15131]—I won’t mention any names, says Alf.

[15132]

[15133]—I thought so, says Joe. I saw him up at that meeting now with William

[15134]Field, M. P., the cattle traders.

[15135]

[15136]—Hairy Iopas, says the citizen, that exploded volcano, the darling of

[15137]all countries and the idol of his own.

[15138]

[15139]So Joe starts telling the citizen about the foot and mouth disease

[15140]and the cattle traders and taking action in the matter and the citizen

[15141]sending them all to the rightabout and Bloom coming out with his

[15142]sheepdip for the scab and a hoose drench for coughing calves and the

[15143]guaranteed remedy for timber tongue. Because he was up one time in a

[15144]knacker’s yard. Walking about with his book and pencil here’s my

[15145]head and my heels are coming till Joe Cuffe gave him the order of the

[15146]boot for giving lip to a grazier. Mister Knowall. Teach your grandmother

[15147]how to milk ducks. Pisser Burke was telling me in the hotel the wife

[15148]used to be in rivers of tears some times with Mrs O’Dowd crying her

[15149]eyes out with her eight inches of fat all over her. Couldn’t loosen

[15150]her farting strings but old cod’s eye was waltzing around her showing

[15151]her how to do it. What’s your programme today? Ay. Humane methods.

[15152]Because the poor animals suffer and experts say and the best known

[15153]remedy that doesn’t cause pain to the animal and on the sore spot

[15154]administer gently. Gob, he’d have a soft hand under a hen.

[15155]

[15156]Ga Ga Gara. Klook Klook Klook. Black Liz is our hen. She lays eggs for

[15157]us. When she lays her egg she is so glad. Gara. Klook Klook Klook. Then

[15158]comes good uncle Leo. He puts his hand under black Liz and takes her

[15159]fresh egg. Ga ga ga ga Gara. Klook Klook Klook.

[15160]

[15161]—Anyhow, says Joe, Field and Nannetti are going over tonight to London

[15162]to ask about it on the floor of the house of commons.

[15163]

[15164]—Are you sure, says Bloom, the councillor is going? I wanted to see

[15165]him, as it happens.

[15166]

[15167]—Well, he’s going off by the mailboat, says Joe, tonight.

[15168]

[15169]—That’s too bad, says Bloom. I wanted particularly. Perhaps only Mr

[15170]Field is going. I couldn’t phone. No. You’re sure?

[15171]

[15172]—Nannan’s going too, says Joe. The league told him to ask a question

[15173]tomorrow about the commissioner of police forbidding Irish games in the

[15174]park. What do you think of that, citizen? The Sluagh na h-Eireann.

[15175]

[15176]Mr Cowe Conacre (Multifarnham. Nat.): Arising out of the question of

[15177]my honourable friend, the member for Shillelagh, may I ask the right

[15178]honourable gentleman whether the government has issued orders that these

[15179]animals shall be slaughtered though no medical evidence is forthcoming

[15180]as to their pathological condition?

[15181]

[15182]Mr Allfours (Tamoshant. Con.): Honourable members are already in

[15183]possession of the evidence produced before a committee of the whole

[15184]house. I feel I cannot usefully add anything to that. The answer to the

[15185]honourable member’s question is in the affirmative.

[15186]

[15187]Mr Orelli O’Reilly (Montenotte. Nat.): Have similar orders been issued

[15188]for the slaughter of human animals who dare to play Irish games in the

[15189]Phoenix park?

[15190]

[15191]Mr Allfours: The answer is in the negative.

[15192]

[15193]Mr Cowe Conacre: Has the right honourable gentleman’s famous

[15194]Mitchelstown telegram inspired the policy of gentlemen on the Treasury

[15195]bench? (O! O!)

[15196]

[15197]Mr Allfours: I must have notice of that question.

[15198]

[15199]Mr Staylewit (Buncombe. Ind.): Don’t hesitate to shoot.

[15200]

[15201](Ironical opposition cheers.)

[15202]

[15203]The speaker: Order! Order!

[15204]

[15205](The house rises. Cheers.)

[15206]

[15207]—There’s the man, says Joe, that made the Gaelic sports revival.

[15208]There he is sitting there. The man that got away James Stephens. The

[15209]champion of all Ireland at putting the sixteen pound shot. What was your

[15210]best throw, citizen?

[15211]

[15212]—Na bacleis, says the citizen, letting on to be modest. There was a

[15213]time I was as good as the next fellow anyhow.

[15214]

[15215]—Put it there, citizen, says Joe. You were and a bloody sight better.

[15216]

[15217]—Is that really a fact? says Alf.

[15218]

[15219]—Yes, says Bloom. That’s well known. Did you not know that?

[15220]

[15221]So off they started about Irish sports and shoneen games the like of

[15222]lawn tennis and about hurley and putting the stone and racy of the soil

[15223]and building up a nation once again and all to that. And of course Bloom

[15224]had to have his say too about if a fellow had a rower’s heart violent

[15225]exercise was bad. I declare to my antimacassar if you took up a straw

[15226]from the bloody floor and if you said to Bloom: Look at, Bloom. Do you

[15227]see that straw? That’s a straw. Declare to my aunt he’d talk about

[15228]it for an hour so he would and talk steady.

[15229]

[15230]A most interesting discussion took place in the ancient hall of Brian

[15231]O’Ciarnain’s in Sraid na Bretaine Bheag, under the auspices of

[15232]Sluagh na h-Eireann, on the revival of ancient Gaelic sports and the

[15233]importance of physical culture, as understood in ancient Greece and

[15234]ancient Rome and ancient Ireland, for the development of the race.

[15235]The venerable president of the noble order was in the chair and the

[15236]attendance was of large dimensions. After an instructive discourse by

[15237]the chairman, a magnificent oration eloquently and forcibly expressed,

[15238]a most interesting and instructive discussion of the usual high standard

[15239]of excellence ensued as to the desirability of the revivability of

[15240]the ancient games and sports of our ancient Panceltic forefathers. The

[15241]wellknown and highly respected worker in the cause of our old tongue, Mr

[15242]Joseph M’Carthy Hynes, made an eloquent appeal for the resuscitation

[15243]of the ancient Gaelic sports and pastimes, practised morning and evening

[15244]by Finn MacCool, as calculated to revive the best traditions of manly

[15245]strength and prowess handed down to us from ancient ages. L. Bloom, who

[15246]met with a mixed reception of applause and hisses, having espoused the

[15247]negative the vocalist chairman brought the discussion to a close, in

[15248]response to repeated requests and hearty plaudits from all parts of

[15249]a bumper house, by a remarkably noteworthy rendering of the immortal

[15250]Thomas Osborne Davis’ evergreen verses (happily too familiar to

[15251]need recalling here) A nation once again in the execution of which the

[15252]veteran patriot champion may be said without fear of contradiction

[15253]to have fairly excelled himself. The Irish Caruso-Garibaldi was in

[15254]superlative form and his stentorian notes were heard to the greatest

[15255]advantage in the timehonoured anthem sung as only our citizen can sing

[15256]it. His superb highclass vocalism, which by its superquality greatly

[15257]enhanced his already international reputation, was vociferously

[15258]applauded by the large audience among which were to be noticed many

[15259]prominent members of the clergy as well as representatives of the press

[15260]and the bar and the other learned professions. The proceedings then

[15261]terminated.

[15262]

[15263]Amongst the clergy present were the very rev. William Delany, S. J., L.

[15264]L. D.; the rt rev. Gerald Molloy, D. D.; the rev. P. J. Kavanagh, C. S.

[15265]Sp.; the rev. T. Waters, C. C.; the rev. John M. Ivers, P. P.; the rev.

[15266]P. J. Cleary, O. S. F.; the rev. L. J. Hickey, O. P.; the very rev. Fr.

[15267]Nicholas, O. S. F. C.; the very rev. B. Gorman, O. D. C.; the rev. T.

[15268]Maher, S. J.; the very rev. James Murphy, S. J.; the rev. John Lavery,

[15269]V. F.; the very rev. William Doherty, D. D.; the rev. Peter Fagan, O.

[15270]M.; the rev. T. Brangan, O. S. A.; the rev. J. Flavin, C. C.; the

[15271]rev. M. A. Hackett, C. C.; the rev. W. Hurley, C. C.; the rt rev. Mgr

[15272]M’Manus, V. G.; the rev. B. R. Slattery, O. M. I.; the very rev. M.

[15273]D. Scally, P. P.; the rev. F. T. Purcell, O. P.; the very rev. Timothy

[15274]canon Gorman, P. P.; the rev. J. Flanagan, C. C. The laity included P.

[15275]Fay, T. Quirke, etc., etc.

[15276]

[15277]—Talking about violent exercise, says Alf, were you at that

[15278]Keogh-Bennett match?

[15279]

[15280]—No, says Joe.

[15281]

[15282]—I heard So and So made a cool hundred quid over it, says Alf.

[15283]

[15284]—Who? Blazes? says Joe.

[15285]

[15286]And says Bloom:

[15287]

[15288]—What I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training

[15289]the eye.

[15290]

[15291]—Ay, Blazes, says Alf. He let out that Myler was on the beer to run up

[15292]the odds and he swatting all the time.

[15293]

[15294]—We know him, says the citizen. The traitor’s son. We know what put

[15295]English gold in his pocket.

[15296]

[15297]—True for you, says Joe.

[15298]

[15299]And Bloom cuts in again about lawn tennis and the circulation of the

[15300]blood, asking Alf:

[15301]

[15302]—Now, don’t you think, Bergan?

[15303]

[15304]—Myler dusted the floor with him, says Alf. Heenan and Sayers was only

[15305]a bloody fool to it. Handed him the father and mother of a beating. See

[15306]the little kipper not up to his navel and the big fellow swiping. God,

[15307]he gave him one last puck in the wind, Queensberry rules and all, made

[15308]him puke what he never ate.

[15309]

[15310]It was a historic and a hefty battle when Myler and Percy were scheduled

[15311]to don the gloves for the purse of fifty sovereigns. Handicapped as

[15312]he was by lack of poundage, Dublin’s pet lamb made up for it by

[15313]superlative skill in ringcraft. The final bout of fireworks was a

[15314]gruelling for both champions. The welterweight sergeantmajor had tapped

[15315]some lively claret in the previous mixup during which Keogh had been

[15316]receivergeneral of rights and lefts, the artilleryman putting in some

[15317]neat work on the pet’s nose, and Myler came on looking groggy. The

[15318]soldier got to business, leading off with a powerful left jab to which

[15319]the Irish gladiator retaliated by shooting out a stiff one flush to the

[15320]point of Bennett’s jaw. The redcoat ducked but the Dubliner lifted

[15321]him with a left hook, the body punch being a fine one. The men came to

[15322]handigrips. Myler quickly became busy and got his man under, the bout

[15323]ending with the bulkier man on the ropes, Myler punishing him. The

[15324]Englishman, whose right eye was nearly closed, took his corner where he

[15325]was liberally drenched with water and when the bell went came on gamey

[15326]and brimful of pluck, confident of knocking out the fistic Eblanite in

[15327]jigtime. It was a fight to a finish and the best man for it. The two

[15328]fought like tigers and excitement ran fever high. The referee twice

[15329]cautioned Pucking Percy for holding but the pet was tricky and his

[15330]footwork a treat to watch. After a brisk exchange of courtesies during

[15331]which a smart upper cut of the military man brought blood freely from

[15332]his opponent’s mouth the lamb suddenly waded in all over his man and

[15333]landed a terrific left to Battling Bennett’s stomach, flooring him

[15334]flat. It was a knockout clean and clever. Amid tense expectation the

[15335]Portobello bruiser was being counted out when Bennett’s second Ole

[15336]Pfotts Wettstein threw in the towel and the Santry boy was declared

[15337]victor to the frenzied cheers of the public who broke through the

[15338]ringropes and fairly mobbed him with delight.

[15339]

[15340]—He knows which side his bread is buttered, says Alf. I hear he’s

[15341]running a concert tour now up in the north.

[15342]

[15343]—He is, says Joe. Isn’t he?

[15344]

[15345]—Who? says Bloom. Ah, yes. That’s quite true. Yes, a kind of summer

[15346]tour, you see. Just a holiday.

[15347]

[15348]—Mrs B. is the bright particular star, isn’t she? says Joe.

[15349]

[15350]—My wife? says Bloom. She’s singing, yes. I think it will be a

[15351]success too.

[15352]

[15353]He’s an excellent man to organise. Excellent.

[15354]

[15355]Hoho begob says I to myself says I. That explains the milk in the

[15356]cocoanut and absence of hair on the animal’s chest. Blazes doing the

[15357]tootle on the flute. Concert tour. Dirty Dan the dodger’s son off

[15358]Island bridge that sold the same horses twice over to the government to

[15359]fight the Boers. Old Whatwhat. I called about the poor and water rate,

[15360]Mr Boylan. You what? The water rate, Mr Boylan. You whatwhat? That’s

[15361]the bucko that’ll organise her, take my tip. ’Twixt me and you

[15362]Caddareesh.

[15363]

[15364]Pride of Calpe’s rocky mount, the ravenhaired daughter of Tweedy.

[15365]There grew she to peerless beauty where loquat and almond scent the

[15366]air. The gardens of Alameda knew her step: the garths of olives knew

[15367]and bowed. The chaste spouse of Leopold is she: Marion of the bountiful

[15368]bosoms.

[15369]

[15370]And lo, there entered one of the clan of the O’Molloy’s, a comely

[15371]hero of white face yet withal somewhat ruddy, his majesty’s counsel

[15372]learned in the law, and with him the prince and heir of the noble line

[15373]of Lambert.

[15374]

[15375]—Hello, Ned.

[15376]

[15377]—Hello, Alf.

[15378]

[15379]—Hello, Jack.

[15380]

[15381]—Hello, Joe.

[15382]

[15383]—God save you, says the citizen.

[15384]

[15385]—Save you kindly, says J. J. What’ll it be, Ned?

[15386]

[15387]—Half one, says Ned.

[15388]

[15389]So J. J. ordered the drinks.

[15390]

[15391]—Were you round at the court? says Joe.

[15392]

[15393]—Yes, says J. J. He’ll square that, Ned, says he.

[15394]

[15395]—Hope so, says Ned.

[15396]

[15397]Now what were those two at? J. J. getting him off the grand jury

[15398]list and the other give him a leg over the stile. With his name in

[15399]Stubbs’s. Playing cards, hobnobbing with flash toffs with a swank

[15400]glass in their eye, adrinking fizz and he half smothered in writs and

[15401]garnishee orders. Pawning his gold watch in Cummins of Francis street

[15402]where no-one would know him in the private office when I was there with

[15403]Pisser releasing his boots out of the pop. What’s your name, sir?

[15404]Dunne, says he. Ay, and done says I. Gob, he’ll come home by weeping

[15405]cross one of those days, I’m thinking.

[15406]

[15407]—Did you see that bloody lunatic Breen round there? says Alf. U. p:

[15408]up.

[15409]

[15410]—Yes, says J. J. Looking for a private detective.

[15411]

[15412]—Ay, says Ned. And he wanted right go wrong to address the court only

[15413]Corny Kelleher got round him telling him to get the handwriting examined

[15414]first.

[15415]

[15416]—Ten thousand pounds, says Alf, laughing. God, I’d give anything to

[15417]hear him before a judge and jury.

[15418]

[15419]—Was it you did it, Alf? says Joe. The truth, the whole truth and

[15420]nothing but the truth, so help you Jimmy Johnson.

[15421]

[15422]—Me? says Alf. Don’t cast your nasturtiums on my character.

[15423]

[15424]—Whatever statement you make, says Joe, will be taken down in evidence

[15425]against you.

[15426]

[15427]—Of course an action would lie, says J. J. It implies that he is not

[15428]compos mentis. U. p: up.

[15429]

[15430]—Compos your eye! says Alf, laughing. Do you know that he’s balmy?

[15431]Look at his head. Do you know that some mornings he has to get his hat

[15432]on with a shoehorn.

[15433]

[15434]—Yes, says J. J., but the truth of a libel is no defence to an

[15435]indictment for publishing it in the eyes of the law.

[15436]

[15437]—Ha ha, Alf, says Joe.

[15438]

[15439]—Still, says Bloom, on account of the poor woman, I mean his wife.

[15440]

[15441]—Pity about her, says the citizen. Or any other woman marries a half

[15442]and half.

[15443]

[15444]—How half and half? says Bloom. Do you mean he...

[15445]

[15446]—Half and half I mean, says the citizen. A fellow that’s neither

[15447]fish nor flesh.

[15448]

[15449]—Nor good red herring, says Joe.

[15450]

[15451]—That what’s I mean, says the citizen. A pishogue, if you know what

[15452]that is.

[15453]

[15454]Begob I saw there was trouble coming. And Bloom explaining he meant on

[15455]account of it being cruel for the wife having to go round after the

[15456]old stuttering fool. Cruelty to animals so it is to let that bloody

[15457]povertystricken Breen out on grass with his beard out tripping him,

[15458]bringing down the rain. And she with her nose cockahoop after she

[15459]married him because a cousin of his old fellow’s was pewopener to

[15460]the pope. Picture of him on the wall with his Smashall Sweeney’s

[15461]moustaches, the signior Brini from Summerhill, the eyetallyano, papal

[15462]Zouave to the Holy Father, has left the quay and gone to Moss street.

[15463]And who was he, tell us? A nobody, two pair back and passages, at seven

[15464]shillings a week, and he covered with all kinds of breastplates bidding

[15465]defiance to the world.

[15466]

[15467]—And moreover, says J. J., a postcard is publication. It was held to

[15468]be sufficient evidence of malice in the testcase Sadgrove v. Hole. In my

[15469]opinion an action might lie.

[15470]

[15471]Six and eightpence, please. Who wants your opinion? Let us drink our

[15472]pints in peace. Gob, we won’t be let even do that much itself.

[15473]

[15474]—Well, good health, Jack, says Ned.

[15475]

[15476]—Good health, Ned, says J. J.

[15477]

[15478]—-There he is again, says Joe.

[15479]

[15480]—Where? says Alf.

[15481]

[15482]And begob there he was passing the door with his books under his oxter

[15483]and the wife beside him and Corny Kelleher with his wall eye looking in

[15484]as they went past, talking to him like a father, trying to sell him a

[15485]secondhand coffin.

[15486]

[15487]—How did that Canada swindle case go off? says Joe.

[15488]

[15489]—Remanded, says J. J.

[15490]

[15491]One of the bottlenosed fraternity it was went by the name of James

[15492]Wought alias Saphiro alias Spark and Spiro, put an ad in the papers

[15493]saying he’d give a passage to Canada for twenty bob. What? Do you see

[15494]any green in the white of my eye? Course it was a bloody barney. What?

[15495]Swindled them all, skivvies and badhachs from the county Meath, ay, and

[15496]his own kidney too. J. J. was telling us there was an ancient Hebrew

[15497]Zaretsky or something weeping in the witnessbox with his hat on him,

[15498]swearing by the holy Moses he was stuck for two quid.

[15499]

[15500]—Who tried the case? says Joe.

[15501]

[15502]—Recorder, says Ned.

[15503]

[15504]—Poor old sir Frederick, says Alf, you can cod him up to the two eyes.

[15505]

[15506]—Heart as big as a lion, says Ned. Tell him a tale of woe about

[15507]arrears of rent and a sick wife and a squad of kids and, faith, he’ll

[15508]dissolve in tears on the bench.

[15509]

[15510]—Ay, says Alf. Reuben J was bloody lucky he didn’t clap him in the

[15511]dock the other day for suing poor little Gumley that’s minding stones,

[15512]for the corporation there near Butt bridge.

[15513]

[15514]And he starts taking off the old recorder letting on to cry:

[15515]

[15516]—A most scandalous thing! This poor hardworking man! How many

[15517]children? Ten, did you say?

[15518]

[15519]—Yes, your worship. And my wife has the typhoid.

[15520]

[15521]—And the wife with typhoid fever! Scandalous! Leave the court

[15522]immediately, sir. No, sir, I’ll make no order for payment. How

[15523]dare you, sir, come up before me and ask me to make an order! A poor

[15524]hardworking industrious man! I dismiss the case.

[15525]

[15526]And whereas on the sixteenth day of the month of the oxeyed goddess and

[15527]in the third week after the feastday of the Holy and Undivided Trinity,

[15528]the daughter of the skies, the virgin moon being then in her first

[15529]quarter, it came to pass that those learned judges repaired them to the

[15530]halls of law. There master Courtenay, sitting in his own chamber, gave

[15531]his rede and master Justice Andrews, sitting without a jury in the

[15532]probate court, weighed well and pondered the claim of the first

[15533]chargeant upon the property in the matter of the will propounded and

[15534]final testamentary disposition in re the real and personal estate of the

[15535]late lamented Jacob Halliday, vintner, deceased, versus Livingstone, an

[15536]infant, of unsound mind, and another. And to the solemn court of Green

[15537]street there came sir Frederick the Falconer. And he sat him there about

[15538]the hour of five o’clock to administer the law of the brehons at the

[15539]commission for all that and those parts to be holden in and for the

[15540]county of the city of Dublin. And there sat with him the high sinhedrim

[15541]of the twelve tribes of Iar, for every tribe one man, of the tribe of

[15542]Patrick and of the tribe of Hugh and of the tribe of Owen and of the

[15543]tribe of Conn and of the tribe of Oscar and of the tribe of Fergus and

[15544]of the tribe of Finn and of the tribe of Dermot and of the tribe of

[15545]Cormac and of the tribe of Kevin and of the tribe of Caolte and of the

[15546]tribe of Ossian, there being in all twelve good men and true. And he

[15547]conjured them by Him who died on rood that they should well and

[15548]truly try and true deliverance make in the issue joined between their

[15549]sovereign lord the king and the prisoner at the bar and true verdict

[15550]give according to the evidence so help them God and kiss the book. And

[15551]they rose in their seats, those twelve of Iar, and they swore by

[15552]the name of Him Who is from everlasting that they would do His

[15553]rightwiseness. And straightway the minions of the law led forth from

[15554]their donjon keep one whom the sleuthhounds of justice had apprehended

[15555]in consequence of information received. And they shackled him hand and

[15556]foot and would take of him ne bail ne mainprise but preferred a charge

[15557]against him for he was a malefactor.

[15558]

[15559]—Those are nice things, says the citizen, coming over here to Ireland

[15560]filling the country with bugs.

[15561]

[15562]So Bloom lets on he heard nothing and he starts talking with Joe,

[15563]telling him he needn’t trouble about that little matter till the first

[15564]but if he would just say a word to Mr Crawford. And so Joe swore high

[15565]and holy by this and by that he’d do the devil and all.

[15566]

[15567]—Because, you see, says Bloom, for an advertisement you must have

[15568]repetition. That’s the whole secret.

[15569]

[15570]—Rely on me, says Joe.

[15571]

[15572]—Swindling the peasants, says the citizen, and the poor of Ireland. We

[15573]want no more strangers in our house.

[15574]

[15575]—O, I’m sure that will be all right, Hynes, says Bloom. It’s just

[15576]that Keyes, you see.

[15577]

[15578]—Consider that done, says Joe.

[15579]

[15580]—Very kind of you, says Bloom.

[15581]

[15582]—The strangers, says the citizen. Our own fault. We let them come in.

[15583]We brought them in. The adulteress and her paramour brought the Saxon

[15584]robbers here.

[15585]

[15586]—Decree nisi, says J. J.

[15587]

[15588]And Bloom letting on to be awfully deeply interested in nothing, a

[15589]spider’s web in the corner behind the barrel, and the citizen scowling

[15590]after him and the old dog at his feet looking up to know who to bite and

[15591]when.

[15592]

[15593]—A dishonoured wife, says the citizen, that’s what’s the cause of

[15594]all our misfortunes.

[15595]

[15596]—And here she is, says Alf, that was giggling over the Police Gazette

[15597]with Terry on the counter, in all her warpaint.

[15598]

[15599]—Give us a squint at her, says I.

[15600]

[15601]And what was it only one of the smutty yankee pictures Terry borrows off

[15602]of Corny Kelleher. Secrets for enlarging your private parts. Misconduct

[15603]of society belle. Norman W. Tupper, wealthy Chicago contractor, finds

[15604]pretty but faithless wife in lap of officer Taylor. Belle in her

[15605]bloomers misconducting herself, and her fancyman feeling for her tickles

[15606]and Norman W. Tupper bouncing in with his peashooter just in time to be

[15607]late after she doing the trick of the loop with officer Taylor.

[15608]

[15609]—O jakers, Jenny, says Joe, how short your shirt is!

[15610]

[15611]—There’s hair, Joe, says I. Get a queer old tailend of corned beef

[15612]off of that one, what?

[15613]

[15614]So anyhow in came John Wyse Nolan and Lenehan with him with a face on

[15615]him as long as a late breakfast.

[15616]

[15617]—Well, says the citizen, what’s the latest from the scene of action?

[15618]What did those tinkers in the city hall at their caucus meeting decide

[15619]about the Irish language?

[15620]

[15621]O’Nolan, clad in shining armour, low bending made obeisance to the

[15622]puissant and high and mighty chief of all Erin and did him to wit of

[15623]that which had befallen, how that the grave elders of the most obedient

[15624]city, second of the realm, had met them in the tholsel, and there, after

[15625]due prayers to the gods who dwell in ether supernal, had taken solemn

[15626]counsel whereby they might, if so be it might be, bring once more into

[15627]honour among mortal men the winged speech of the seadivided Gael.

[15628]

[15629]—It’s on the march, says the citizen. To hell with the bloody brutal

[15630]Sassenachs and their patois.

[15631]

[15632]So J. J. puts in a word, doing the toff about one story was good till

[15633]you heard another and blinking facts and the Nelson policy, putting your

[15634]blind eye to the telescope and drawing up a bill of attainder to impeach

[15635]a nation, and Bloom trying to back him up moderation and botheration and

[15636]their colonies and their civilisation.

[15637]

[15638]—Their syphilisation, you mean, says the citizen. To hell with

[15639]them! The curse of a goodfornothing God light sideways on the bloody

[15640]thicklugged sons of whores’ gets! No music and no art and no

[15641]literature worthy of the name. Any civilisation they have they stole

[15642]from us. Tonguetied sons of bastards’ ghosts.

[15643]

[15644]—The European family, says J. J....

[15645]

[15646]—They’re not European, says the citizen. I was in Europe with Kevin

[15647]Egan of Paris. You wouldn’t see a trace of them or their language

[15648]anywhere in Europe except in a cabinet d’aisance.

[15649]

[15650]And says John Wyse:

[15651]

[15652]—Full many a flower is born to blush unseen.

[15653]

[15654]And says Lenehan that knows a bit of the lingo:

[15655]

[15656]—Conspuez les Anglais! Perfide Albion!

[15657]

[15658]He said and then lifted he in his rude great brawny strengthy hands the

[15659]medher of dark strong foamy ale and, uttering his tribal slogan Lamh

[15660]Dearg Abu, he drank to the undoing of his foes, a race of mighty

[15661]valorous heroes, rulers of the waves, who sit on thrones of alabaster

[15662]silent as the deathless gods.

[15663]

[15664]—What’s up with you, says I to Lenehan. You look like a fellow that

[15665]had lost a bob and found a tanner.

[15666]

[15667]—Gold cup, says he.

[15668]

[15669]—Who won, Mr Lenehan? says Terry.

[15670]

[15671]—Throwaway, says he, at twenty to one. A rank outsider. And the rest

[15672]nowhere.

[15673]

[15674]—And Bass’s mare? says Terry.

[15675]

[15676]—Still running, says he. We’re all in a cart. Boylan plunged two

[15677]quid on my tip Sceptre for himself and a lady friend.

[15678]

[15679]—I had half a crown myself, says Terry, on Zinfandel that Mr Flynn

[15680]gave me. Lord Howard de Walden’s.

[15681]

[15682]—Twenty to one, says Lenehan. Such is life in an outhouse. Throwaway,

[15683]says he. Takes the biscuit, and talking about bunions. Frailty, thy name

[15684]is Sceptre.

[15685]

[15686]So he went over to the biscuit tin Bob Doran left to see if there was

[15687]anything he could lift on the nod, the old cur after him backing his

[15688]luck with his mangy snout up. Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard.

[15689]

[15690]—Not there, my child, says he.

[15691]

[15692]—Keep your pecker up, says Joe. She’d have won the money only for

[15693]the other dog.

[15694]

[15695]And J. J. and the citizen arguing about law and history with Bloom

[15696]sticking in an odd word.

[15697]

[15698]—Some people, says Bloom, can see the mote in others’ eyes but they

[15699]can’t see the beam in their own.

[15700]

[15701]—Raimeis, says the citizen. There’s no-one as blind as the fellow

[15702]that won’t see, if you know what that means. Where are our missing

[15703]twenty millions of Irish should be here today instead of four, our lost

[15704]tribes? And our potteries and textiles, the finest in the whole world!

[15705]And our wool that was sold in Rome in the time of Juvenal and our flax

[15706]and our damask from the looms of Antrim and our Limerick lace, our

[15707]tanneries and our white flint glass down there by Ballybough and our

[15708]Huguenot poplin that we have since Jacquard de Lyon and our woven silk

[15709]and our Foxford tweeds and ivory raised point from the Carmelite convent

[15710]in New Ross, nothing like it in the whole wide world. Where are the

[15711]Greek merchants that came through the pillars of Hercules, the Gibraltar

[15712]now grabbed by the foe of mankind, with gold and Tyrian purple to

[15713]sell in Wexford at the fair of Carmen? Read Tacitus and Ptolemy, even

[15714]Giraldus Cambrensis. Wine, peltries, Connemara marble, silver from

[15715]Tipperary, second to none, our farfamed horses even today, the Irish

[15716]hobbies, with king Philip of Spain offering to pay customs duties for

[15717]the right to fish in our waters. What do the yellowjohns of Anglia owe

[15718]us for our ruined trade and our ruined hearths? And the beds of the

[15719]Barrow and Shannon they won’t deepen with millions of acres of marsh

[15720]and bog to make us all die of consumption?

[15721]

[15722]—As treeless as Portugal we’ll be soon, says John Wyse, or

[15723]Heligoland with its one tree if something is not done to reafforest the

[15724]land. Larches, firs, all the trees of the conifer family are going fast.

[15725]I was reading a report of lord Castletown’s...

[15726]

[15727]—Save them, says the citizen, the giant ash of Galway and the

[15728]chieftain elm of Kildare with a fortyfoot bole and an acre of foliage.

[15729]Save the trees of Ireland for the future men of Ireland on the fair

[15730]hills of Eire, O.

[15731]

[15732]—Europe has its eyes on you, says Lenehan.

[15733]

[15734]The fashionable international world attended en masse this afternoon

[15735]at the wedding of the chevalier Jean Wyse de Neaulan, grand high chief

[15736]ranger of the Irish National Foresters, with Miss Fir Conifer of Pine

[15737]Valley. Lady Sylvester Elmshade, Mrs Barbara Lovebirch, Mrs Poll Ash,

[15738]Mrs Holly Hazeleyes, Miss Daphne Bays, Miss Dorothy Canebrake, Mrs Clyde

[15739]Twelvetrees, Mrs Rowan Greene, Mrs Helen Vinegadding, Miss Virginia

[15740]Creeper, Miss Gladys Beech, Miss Olive Garth, Miss Blanche Maple, Mrs

[15741]Maud Mahogany, Miss Myra Myrtle, Miss Priscilla Elderflower, Miss

[15742]Bee Honeysuckle, Miss Grace Poplar, Miss O Mimosa San, Miss Rachel

[15743]Cedarfrond, the Misses Lilian and Viola Lilac, Miss Timidity Aspenall,

[15744]Mrs Kitty Dewey-Mosse, Miss May Hawthorne, Mrs Gloriana Palme, Mrs Liana

[15745]Forrest, Mrs Arabella Blackwood and Mrs Norma Holyoake of Oakholme Regis

[15746]graced the ceremony by their presence. The bride who was given away by

[15747]her father, the M’Conifer of the Glands, looked exquisitely charming

[15748]in a creation carried out in green mercerised silk, moulded on an

[15749]underslip of gloaming grey, sashed with a yoke of broad emerald and

[15750]finished with a triple flounce of darkerhued fringe, the scheme being

[15751]relieved by bretelles and hip insertions of acorn bronze. The maids

[15752]of honour, Miss Larch Conifer and Miss Spruce Conifer, sisters of the

[15753]bride, wore very becoming costumes in the same tone, a dainty motif

[15754]of plume rose being worked into the pleats in a pinstripe and repeated

[15755]capriciously in the jadegreen toques in the form of heron feathers of

[15756]paletinted coral. Senhor Enrique Flor presided at the organ with his

[15757]wellknown ability and, in addition to the prescribed numbers of the

[15758]nuptial mass, played a new and striking arrangement of Woodman, spare

[15759]that tree at the conclusion of the service. On leaving the church of

[15760]Saint Fiacre in Horto after the papal blessing the happy pair were

[15761]subjected to a playful crossfire of hazelnuts, beechmast, bayleaves,

[15762]catkins of willow, ivytod, hollyberries, mistletoe sprigs and quicken

[15763]shoots. Mr and Mrs Wyse Conifer Neaulan will spend a quiet honeymoon in

[15764]the Black Forest.

[15765]

[15766]—And our eyes are on Europe, says the citizen. We had our trade with

[15767]Spain and the French and with the Flemings before those mongrels were

[15768]pupped, Spanish ale in Galway, the winebark on the winedark waterway.

[15769]

[15770]—And will again, says Joe.

[15771]

[15772]—And with the help of the holy mother of God we will again, says the

[15773]citizen, clapping his thigh. Our harbours that are empty will be full

[15774]again, Queenstown, Kinsale, Galway, Blacksod Bay, Ventry in the kingdom

[15775]of Kerry, Killybegs, the third largest harbour in the wide world with a

[15776]fleet of masts of the Galway Lynches and the Cavan O’Reillys and the

[15777]O’Kennedys of Dublin when the earl of Desmond could make a treaty with

[15778]the emperor Charles the Fifth himself. And will again, says he, when the

[15779]first Irish battleship is seen breasting the waves with our own flag

[15780]to the fore, none of your Henry Tudor’s harps, no, the oldest flag

[15781]afloat, the flag of the province of Desmond and Thomond, three crowns on

[15782]a blue field, the three sons of Milesius.

[15783]

[15784]And he took the last swig out of the pint. Moya. All wind and piss like

[15785]a tanyard cat. Cows in Connacht have long horns. As much as his bloody

[15786]life is worth to go down and address his tall talk to the assembled

[15787]multitude in Shanagolden where he daren’t show his nose with the Molly

[15788]Maguires looking for him to let daylight through him for grabbing the

[15789]holding of an evicted tenant.

[15790]

[15791]—Hear, hear to that, says John Wyse. What will you have?

[15792]

[15793]—An imperial yeomanry, says Lenehan, to celebrate the occasion.

[15794]

[15795]—Half one, Terry, says John Wyse, and a hands up. Terry! Are you

[15796]asleep?

[15797]

[15798]—Yes, sir, says Terry. Small whisky and bottle of Allsop. Right, sir.

[15799]

[15800]Hanging over the bloody paper with Alf looking for spicy bits instead of

[15801]attending to the general public. Picture of a butting match, trying to

[15802]crack their bloody skulls, one chap going for the other with his head

[15803]down like a bull at a gate. And another one: Black Beast Burned in

[15804]Omaha, Ga. A lot of Deadwood Dicks in slouch hats and they firing at a

[15805]Sambo strung up in a tree with his tongue out and a bonfire under

[15806]him. Gob, they ought to drown him in the sea after and electrocute and

[15807]crucify him to make sure of their job.

[15808]

[15809]—But what about the fighting navy, says Ned, that keeps our foes at

[15810]bay?

[15811]

[15812]—I’ll tell you what about it, says the citizen. Hell upon earth it

[15813]is. Read the revelations that’s going on in the papers about flogging

[15814]on the training ships at Portsmouth. A fellow writes that calls himself

[15815]Disgusted One.

[15816]

[15817]So he starts telling us about corporal punishment and about the crew

[15818]of tars and officers and rearadmirals drawn up in cocked hats and the

[15819]parson with his protestant bible to witness punishment and a young lad

[15820]brought out, howling for his ma, and they tie him down on the buttend of

[15821]a gun.

[15822]

[15823]—A rump and dozen, says the citizen, was what that old ruffian sir

[15824]John Beresford called it but the modern God’s Englishman calls it

[15825]caning on the breech.

[15826]

[15827]And says John Wyse:

[15828]

[15829]—’Tis a custom more honoured in the breach than in the observance.

[15830]

[15831]Then he was telling us the master at arms comes along with a long cane

[15832]and he draws out and he flogs the bloody backside off of the poor lad

[15833]till he yells meila murder.

[15834]

[15835]—That’s your glorious British navy, says the citizen, that bosses

[15836]the earth. The fellows that never will be slaves, with the only

[15837]hereditary chamber on the face of God’s earth and their land in the

[15838]hands of a dozen gamehogs and cottonball barons. That’s the great

[15839]empire they boast about of drudges and whipped serfs.

[15840]

[15841]—On which the sun never rises, says Joe.

[15842]

[15843]—And the tragedy of it is, says the citizen, they believe it. The

[15844]unfortunate yahoos believe it.

[15845]

[15846]They believe in rod, the scourger almighty, creator of hell upon earth,

[15847]and in Jacky Tar, the son of a gun, who was conceived of unholy boast,

[15848]born of the fighting navy, suffered under rump and dozen, was scarified,

[15849]flayed and curried, yelled like bloody hell, the third day he arose

[15850]again from the bed, steered into haven, sitteth on his beamend till

[15851]further orders whence he shall come to drudge for a living and be paid.

[15852]

[15853]—But, says Bloom, isn’t discipline the same everywhere. I mean

[15854]wouldn’t it be the same here if you put force against force?

[15855]

[15856]Didn’t I tell you? As true as I’m drinking this porter if he was at

[15857]his last gasp he’d try to downface you that dying was living.

[15858]

[15859]—We’ll put force against force, says the citizen. We have our

[15860]greater Ireland beyond the sea. They were driven out of house and home

[15861]in the black 47. Their mudcabins and their shielings by the roadside

[15862]were laid low by the batteringram and the Times rubbed its hands and

[15863]told the whitelivered Saxons there would soon be as few Irish in Ireland

[15864]as redskins in America. Even the Grand Turk sent us his piastres. But

[15865]the Sassenach tried to starve the nation at home while the land was full

[15866]of crops that the British hyenas bought and sold in Rio de Janeiro. Ay,

[15867]they drove out the peasants in hordes. Twenty thousand of them died in

[15868]the coffinships. But those that came to the land of the free remember

[15869]the land of bondage. And they will come again and with a vengeance, no

[15870]cravens, the sons of Granuaile, the champions of Kathleen ni Houlihan.

[15871]

[15872]—Perfectly true, says Bloom. But my point was...

[15873]

[15874]—We are a long time waiting for that day, citizen, says Ned. Since

[15875]the poor old woman told us that the French were on the sea and landed at

[15876]Killala.

[15877]

[15878]—Ay, says John Wyse. We fought for the royal Stuarts that reneged us

[15879]against the Williamites and they betrayed us. Remember Limerick and the

[15880]broken treatystone. We gave our best blood to France and Spain, the wild

[15881]geese. Fontenoy, eh? And Sarsfield and O’Donnell, duke of Tetuan

[15882]in Spain, and Ulysses Browne of Camus that was fieldmarshal to Maria

[15883]Teresa. But what did we ever get for it?

[15884]

[15885]—The French! says the citizen. Set of dancing masters! Do you know

[15886]what it is? They were never worth a roasted fart to Ireland. Aren’t

[15887]they trying to make an Entente cordiale now at Tay Pay’s dinnerparty

[15888]with perfidious Albion? Firebrands of Europe and they always were.

[15889]

[15890]—Conspuez les Français, says Lenehan, nobbling his beer.

[15891]

[15892]—And as for the Prooshians and the Hanoverians, says Joe, haven’t we

[15893]had enough of those sausageeating bastards on the throne from George

[15894]the elector down to the German lad and the flatulent old bitch that’s

[15895]dead?

[15896]

[15897]Jesus, I had to laugh at the way he came out with that about the old one

[15898]with the winkers on her, blind drunk in her royal palace every night of

[15899]God, old Vic, with her jorum of mountain dew and her coachman carting

[15900]her up body and bones to roll into bed and she pulling him by the

[15901]whiskers and singing him old bits of songs about Ehren on the Rhine and

[15902]come where the boose is cheaper.

[15903]

[15904]—Well, says J. J. We have Edward the peacemaker now.

[15905]

[15906]—Tell that to a fool, says the citizen. There’s a bloody sight more

[15907]pox than pax about that boyo. Edward Guelph-Wettin!

[15908]

[15909]—And what do you think, says Joe, of the holy boys, the priests

[15910]and bishops of Ireland doing up his room in Maynooth in His Satanic

[15911]Majesty’s racing colours and sticking up pictures of all the horses

[15912]his jockeys rode. The earl of Dublin, no less.

[15913]

[15914]—They ought to have stuck up all the women he rode himself, says

[15915]little Alf.

[15916]

[15917]And says J. J.:

[15918]

[15919]—Considerations of space influenced their lordships’ decision.

[15920]

[15921]—Will you try another, citizen? says Joe.

[15922]

[15923]—Yes, sir, says he. I will.

[15924]

[15925]—You? says Joe.

[15926]

[15927]—Beholden to you, Joe, says I. May your shadow never grow less.

[15928]

[15929]—Repeat that dose, says Joe.

[15930]

[15931]Bloom was talking and talking with John Wyse and he quite excited with

[15932]his dunducketymudcoloured mug on him and his old plumeyes rolling about.

[15933]

[15934]—Persecution, says he, all the history of the world is full of it.

[15935]Perpetuating national hatred among nations.

[15936]

[15937]—But do you know what a nation means? says John Wyse.

[15938]

[15939]—Yes, says Bloom.

[15940]

[15941]—What is it? says John Wyse.

[15942]

[15943]—A nation? says Bloom. A nation is the same people living in the same

[15944]place.

[15945]

[15946]—By God, then, says Ned, laughing, if that’s so I’m a nation for

[15947]I’m living in the same place for the past five years.

[15948]

[15949]So of course everyone had the laugh at Bloom and says he, trying to muck

[15950]out of it:

[15951]

[15952]—Or also living in different places.

[15953]

[15954]—That covers my case, says Joe.

[15955]

[15956]—What is your nation if I may ask? says the citizen.

[15957]

[15958]—Ireland, says Bloom. I was born here. Ireland.

[15959]

[15960]The citizen said nothing only cleared the spit out of his gullet and,

[15961]gob, he spat a Red bank oyster out of him right in the corner.

[15962]

[15963]—After you with the push, Joe, says he, taking out his handkerchief to

[15964]swab himself dry.

[15965]

[15966]—Here you are, citizen, says Joe. Take that in your right hand and

[15967]repeat after me the following words.

[15968]

[15969]The muchtreasured and intricately embroidered ancient Irish facecloth

[15970]attributed to Solomon of Droma and Manus Tomaltach og MacDonogh, authors

[15971]of the Book of Ballymote, was then carefully produced and called forth

[15972]prolonged admiration. No need to dwell on the legendary beauty of the

[15973]cornerpieces, the acme of art, wherein one can distinctly discern each

[15974]of the four evangelists in turn presenting to each of the four masters

[15975]his evangelical symbol, a bogoak sceptre, a North American puma (a far

[15976]nobler king of beasts than the British article, be it said in passing),

[15977]a Kerry calf and a golden eagle from Carrantuohill. The scenes depicted

[15978]on the emunctory field, showing our ancient duns and raths and cromlechs

[15979]and grianauns and seats of learning and maledictive stones, are as

[15980]wonderfully beautiful and the pigments as delicate as when the Sligo

[15981]illuminators gave free rein to their artistic fantasy long long ago in

[15982]the time of the Barmecides. Glendalough, the lovely lakes of Killarney,

[15983]the ruins of Clonmacnois, Cong Abbey, Glen Inagh and the Twelve Pins,

[15984]Ireland’s Eye, the Green Hills of Tallaght, Croagh Patrick, the

[15985]brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company (Limited), Lough

[15986]Neagh’s banks, the vale of Ovoca, Isolde’s tower, the Mapas obelisk,

[15987]Sir Patrick Dun’s hospital, Cape Clear, the glen of Aherlow, Lynch’s

[15988]castle, the Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at Loughlinstown,

[15989]Tullamore jail, Castleconnel rapids, Kilballymacshonakill, the cross

[15990]at Monasterboice, Jury’s Hotel, S. Patrick’s Purgatory, the Salmon

[15991]Leap, Maynooth college refectory, Curley’s hole, the three birthplaces

[15992]of the first duke of Wellington, the rock of Cashel, the bog of Allen,

[15993]the Henry Street Warehouse, Fingal’s Cave—all these moving scenes

[15994]are still there for us today rendered more beautiful still by the waters

[15995]of sorrow which have passed over them and by the rich incrustations of

[15996]time.

[15997]

[15998]—Show us over the drink, says I. Which is which?

[15999]

[16000]—That’s mine, says Joe, as the devil said to the dead policeman.

[16001]

[16002]—And I belong to a race too, says Bloom, that is hated and persecuted.

[16003]Also now. This very moment. This very instant.

[16004]

[16005]Gob, he near burnt his fingers with the butt of his old cigar.

[16006]

[16007]—Robbed, says he. Plundered. Insulted. Persecuted. Taking what belongs

[16008]to us by right. At this very moment, says he, putting up his fist, sold

[16009]by auction in Morocco like slaves or cattle.

[16010]

[16011]—Are you talking about the new Jerusalem? says the citizen.

[16012]

[16013]—I’m talking about injustice, says Bloom.

[16014]

[16015]—Right, says John Wyse. Stand up to it then with force like men.

[16016]

[16017]That’s an almanac picture for you. Mark for a softnosed bullet. Old

[16018]lardyface standing up to the business end of a gun. Gob, he’d adorn a

[16019]sweepingbrush, so he would, if he only had a nurse’s apron on him. And

[16020]then he collapses all of a sudden, twisting around all the opposite, as

[16021]limp as a wet rag.

[16022]

[16023]—But it’s no use, says he. Force, hatred, history, all that.

[16024]That’s not life for men and women, insult and hatred. And everybody

[16025]knows that it’s the very opposite of that that is really life.

[16026]

[16027]—What? says Alf.

[16028]

[16029]—Love, says Bloom. I mean the opposite of hatred. I must go now, says

[16030]he to John Wyse. Just round to the court a moment to see if Martin is

[16031]there. If he comes just say I’ll be back in a second. Just a moment.

[16032]

[16033]Who’s hindering you? And off he pops like greased lightning.

[16034]

[16035]—A new apostle to the gentiles, says the citizen. Universal love.

[16036]

[16037]—Well, says John Wyse. Isn’t that what we’re told. Love your

[16038]neighbour.

[16039]

[16040]—That chap? says the citizen. Beggar my neighbour is his motto. Love,

[16041]moya! He’s a nice pattern of a Romeo and Juliet.

[16042]

[16043]Love loves to love love. Nurse loves the new chemist. Constable 14A

[16044]loves Mary Kelly. Gerty MacDowell loves the boy that has the bicycle. M.

[16045]B. loves a fair gentleman. Li Chi Han lovey up kissy Cha Pu Chow. Jumbo,

[16046]the elephant, loves Alice, the elephant. Old Mr Verschoyle with the ear

[16047]trumpet loves old Mrs Verschoyle with the turnedin eye. The man in the

[16048]brown macintosh loves a lady who is dead. His Majesty the King loves Her

[16049]Majesty the Queen. Mrs Norman W. Tupper loves officer Taylor. You love

[16050]a certain person. And this person loves that other person because

[16051]everybody loves somebody but God loves everybody.

[16052]

[16053]—Well, Joe, says I, your very good health and song. More power,

[16054]citizen.

[16055]

[16056]—Hurrah, there, says Joe.

[16057]

[16058]—The blessing of God and Mary and Patrick on you, says the citizen.

[16059]

[16060]And he ups with his pint to wet his whistle.

[16061]

[16062]—We know those canters, says he, preaching and picking your pocket.

[16063]What about sanctimonious Cromwell and his ironsides that put the women

[16064]and children of Drogheda to the sword with the bible text God is love

[16065]pasted round the mouth of his cannon? The bible! Did you read that skit

[16066]in the United Irishman today about that Zulu chief that’s visiting

[16067]England?

[16068]

[16069]—What’s that? says Joe.

[16070]

[16071]So the citizen takes up one of his paraphernalia papers and he starts

[16072]reading out:

[16073]

[16074]—A delegation of the chief cotton magnates of Manchester was presented

[16075]yesterday to His Majesty the Alaki of Abeakuta by Gold Stick in Waiting,

[16076]Lord Walkup of Walkup on Eggs, to tender to His Majesty the heartfelt

[16077]thanks of British traders for the facilities afforded them in his

[16078]dominions. The delegation partook of luncheon at the conclusion of which

[16079]the dusky potentate, in the course of a happy speech, freely translated

[16080]by the British chaplain, the reverend Ananias Praisegod Barebones,

[16081]tendered his best thanks to Massa Walkup and emphasised the cordial

[16082]relations existing between Abeakuta and the British empire, stating that

[16083]he treasured as one of his dearest possessions an illuminated bible,

[16084]the volume of the word of God and the secret of England’s greatness,

[16085]graciously presented to him by the white chief woman, the great squaw

[16086]Victoria, with a personal dedication from the august hand of the Royal

[16087]Donor. The Alaki then drank a lovingcup of firstshot usquebaugh to the

[16088]toast Black and White from the skull of his immediate predecessor in the

[16089]dynasty Kakachakachak, surnamed Forty Warts, after which he visited the

[16090]chief factory of Cottonopolis and signed his mark in the visitors’

[16091]book, subsequently executing a charming old Abeakutic wardance, in the

[16092]course of which he swallowed several knives and forks, amid hilarious

[16093]applause from the girl hands.

[16094]

[16095]—Widow woman, says Ned. I wouldn’t doubt her. Wonder did he put that

[16096]bible to the same use as I would.

[16097]

[16098]—Same only more so, says Lenehan. And thereafter in that fruitful land

[16099]the broadleaved mango flourished exceedingly.

[16100]

[16101]—Is that by Griffith? says John Wyse.

[16102]

[16103]—No, says the citizen. It’s not signed Shanganagh. It’s only

[16104]initialled: P.

[16105]

[16106]—And a very good initial too, says Joe.

[16107]

[16108]—That’s how it’s worked, says the citizen. Trade follows the flag.

[16109]

[16110]—Well, says J. J., if they’re any worse than those Belgians in the

[16111]Congo Free State they must be bad. Did you read that report by a man

[16112]what’s this his name is?

[16113]

[16114]—Casement, says the citizen. He’s an Irishman.

[16115]

[16116]—Yes, that’s the man, says J. J. Raping the women and girls and

[16117]flogging the natives on the belly to squeeze all the red rubber they can

[16118]out of them.

[16119]

[16120]—I know where he’s gone, says Lenehan, cracking his fingers.

[16121]

[16122]—Who? says I.

[16123]

[16124]—Bloom, says he. The courthouse is a blind. He had a few bob on

[16125]Throwaway and he’s gone to gather in the shekels.

[16126]

[16127]—Is it that whiteeyed kaffir? says the citizen, that never backed a

[16128]horse in anger in his life?

[16129]

[16130]—That’s where he’s gone, says Lenehan. I met Bantam Lyons going to

[16131]back that horse only I put him off it and he told me Bloom gave him the

[16132]tip. Bet you what you like he has a hundred shillings to five on. He’s

[16133]the only man in Dublin has it. A dark horse.

[16134]

[16135]—He’s a bloody dark horse himself, says Joe.

[16136]

[16137]—Mind, Joe, says I. Show us the entrance out.

[16138]

[16139]—There you are, says Terry.

[16140]

[16141]Goodbye Ireland I’m going to Gort. So I just went round the back of

[16142]the yard to pumpship and begob (hundred shillings to five) while I was

[16143]letting off my (Throwaway twenty to) letting off my load gob says I

[16144]to myself I knew he was uneasy in his (two pints off of Joe and one in

[16145]Slattery’s off) in his mind to get off the mark to (hundred shillings

[16146]is five quid) and when they were in the (dark horse) pisser Burke was

[16147]telling me card party and letting on the child was sick (gob, must have

[16148]done about a gallon) flabbyarse of a wife speaking down the tube she’s

[16149]better or she’s (ow!) all a plan so he could vamoose with the pool if

[16150]he won or (Jesus, full up I was) trading without a licence (ow!)

[16151]Ireland my nation says he (hoik! phthook!) never be up to those bloody

[16152](there’s the last of it) Jerusalem (ah!) cuckoos.

[16153]

[16154]So anyhow when I got back they were at it dingdong, John Wyse saying it

[16155]was Bloom gave the ideas for Sinn Fein to Griffith to put in his paper

[16156]all kinds of jerrymandering, packed juries and swindling the taxes off

[16157]of the government and appointing consuls all over the world to walk

[16158]about selling Irish industries. Robbing Peter to pay Paul. Gob, that

[16159]puts the bloody kybosh on it if old sloppy eyes is mucking up the show.

[16160]Give us a bloody chance. God save Ireland from the likes of that bloody

[16161]mouseabout. Mr Bloom with his argol bargol. And his old fellow before

[16162]him perpetrating frauds, old Methusalem Bloom, the robbing bagman, that

[16163]poisoned himself with the prussic acid after he swamping the country

[16164]with his baubles and his penny diamonds. Loans by post on easy terms.

[16165]Any amount of money advanced on note of hand. Distance no object. No

[16166]security. Gob, he’s like Lanty MacHale’s goat that’d go a piece of

[16167]the road with every one.

[16168]

[16169]—Well, it’s a fact, says John Wyse. And there’s the man now

[16170]that’ll tell you all about it, Martin Cunningham.

[16171]

[16172]Sure enough the castle car drove up with Martin on it and Jack Power

[16173]with him and a fellow named Crofter or Crofton, pensioner out of

[16174]the collector general’s, an orangeman Blackburn does have on the

[16175]registration and he drawing his pay or Crawford gallivanting around the

[16176]country at the king’s expense.

[16177]

[16178]Our travellers reached the rustic hostelry and alighted from their

[16179]palfreys.

[16180]

[16181]—Ho, varlet! cried he, who by his mien seemed the leader of the party.

[16182]Saucy knave! To us!

[16183]

[16184]So saying he knocked loudly with his swordhilt upon the open lattice.

[16185]

[16186]Mine host came forth at the summons, girding him with his tabard.

[16187]

[16188]—Give you good den, my masters, said he with an obsequious bow.

[16189]

[16190]—Bestir thyself, sirrah! cried he who had knocked. Look to our steeds.

[16191]And for ourselves give us of your best for ifaith we need it.

[16192]

[16193]—Lackaday, good masters, said the host, my poor house has but a bare

[16194]larder. I know not what to offer your lordships.

[16195]

[16196]—How now, fellow? cried the second of the party, a man of pleasant

[16197]countenance, So servest thou the king’s messengers, master Taptun?

[16198]

[16199]An instantaneous change overspread the landlord’s visage.

[16200]

[16201]—Cry you mercy, gentlemen, he said humbly. An you be the king’s

[16202]messengers (God shield His Majesty!) you shall not want for aught. The

[16203]king’s friends (God bless His Majesty!) shall not go afasting in my

[16204]house I warrant me.

[16205]

[16206]—Then about! cried the traveller who had not spoken, a lusty

[16207]trencherman by his aspect. Hast aught to give us?

[16208]

[16209]Mine host bowed again as he made answer:

[16210]

[16211]—What say you, good masters, to a squab pigeon pasty, some collops of

[16212]venison, a saddle of veal, widgeon with crisp hog’s bacon, a boar’s

[16213]head with pistachios, a bason of jolly custard, a medlar tansy and a

[16214]flagon of old Rhenish?

[16215]

[16216]—Gadzooks! cried the last speaker. That likes me well. Pistachios!

[16217]

[16218]—Aha! cried he of the pleasant countenance. A poor house and a bare

[16219]larder, quotha! ’Tis a merry rogue.

[16220]

[16221]So in comes Martin asking where was Bloom.

[16222]

[16223]—Where is he? says Lenehan. Defrauding widows and orphans.

[16224]

[16225]—Isn’t that a fact, says John Wyse, what I was telling the citizen

[16226]about Bloom and the Sinn Fein?

[16227]

[16228]—That’s so, says Martin. Or so they allege.

[16229]

[16230]—Who made those allegations? says Alf.

[16231]

[16232]—I, says Joe. I’m the alligator.

[16233]

[16234]—And after all, says John Wyse, why can’t a jew love his country

[16235]like the next fellow?

[16236]

[16237]—Why not? says J. J., when he’s quite sure which country it is.

[16238]

[16239]—Is he a jew or a gentile or a holy Roman or a swaddler or what the

[16240]hell is he? says Ned. Or who is he? No offence, Crofton.

[16241]

[16242]—Who is Junius? says J. J.

[16243]

[16244]—We don’t want him, says Crofter the Orangeman or presbyterian.

[16245]

[16246]—He’s a perverted jew, says Martin, from a place in Hungary and it

[16247]was he drew up all the plans according to the Hungarian system. We know

[16248]that in the castle.

[16249]

[16250]—Isn’t he a cousin of Bloom the dentist? says Jack Power.

[16251]

[16252]—Not at all, says Martin. Only namesakes. His name was Virag, the

[16253]father’s name that poisoned himself. He changed it by deedpoll, the

[16254]father did.

[16255]

[16256]—That’s the new Messiah for Ireland! says the citizen. Island of

[16257]saints and sages!

[16258]

[16259]—Well, they’re still waiting for their redeemer, says Martin. For

[16260]that matter so are we.

[16261]

[16262]—Yes, says J. J., and every male that’s born they think it may

[16263]be their Messiah. And every jew is in a tall state of excitement, I

[16264]believe, till he knows if he’s a father or a mother.

[16265]

[16266]—Expecting every moment will be his next, says Lenehan.

[16267]

[16268]—O, by God, says Ned, you should have seen Bloom before that son of

[16269]his that died was born. I met him one day in the south city markets

[16270]buying a tin of Neave’s food six weeks before the wife was delivered.

[16271]

[16272]—En ventre sa mère, says J. J.

[16273]

[16274]—Do you call that a man? says the citizen.

[16275]

[16276]—I wonder did he ever put it out of sight, says Joe.

[16277]

[16278]—Well, there were two children born anyhow, says Jack Power.

[16279]

[16280]—And who does he suspect? says the citizen.

[16281]

[16282]Gob, there’s many a true word spoken in jest. One of those mixed

[16283]middlings he is. Lying up in the hotel Pisser was telling me once a

[16284]month with headache like a totty with her courses. Do you know what

[16285]I’m telling you? It’d be an act of God to take a hold of a fellow

[16286]the like of that and throw him in the bloody sea. Justifiable homicide,

[16287]so it would. Then sloping off with his five quid without putting up a

[16288]pint of stuff like a man. Give us your blessing. Not as much as would

[16289]blind your eye.

[16290]

[16291]—Charity to the neighbour, says Martin. But where is he? We can’t

[16292]wait.

[16293]

[16294]—A wolf in sheep’s clothing, says the citizen. That’s what he is.

[16295]Virag from Hungary! Ahasuerus I call him. Cursed by God.

[16296]

[16297]—Have you time for a brief libation, Martin? says Ned.

[16298]

[16299]—Only one, says Martin. We must be quick. J. J. and S.

[16300]

[16301]—You, Jack? Crofton? Three half ones, Terry.

[16302]

[16303]—Saint Patrick would want to land again at Ballykinlar and convert

[16304]us, says the citizen, after allowing things like that to contaminate our

[16305]shores.

[16306]

[16307]—Well, says Martin, rapping for his glass. God bless all here is my

[16308]prayer.

[16309]

[16310]—Amen, says the citizen.

[16311]

[16312]—And I’m sure He will, says Joe.

[16313]

[16314]And at the sound of the sacring bell, headed by a crucifer with

[16315]acolytes, thurifers, boatbearers, readers, ostiarii, deacons and

[16316]subdeacons, the blessed company drew nigh of mitred abbots and priors

[16317]and guardians and monks and friars: the monks of Benedict of Spoleto,

[16318]Carthusians and Camaldolesi, Cistercians and Olivetans, Oratorians

[16319]and Vallombrosans, and the friars of Augustine, Brigittines,

[16320]Premonstratensians, Servi, Trinitarians, and the children of Peter

[16321]Nolasco: and therewith from Carmel mount the children of Elijah prophet

[16322]led by Albert bishop and by Teresa of Avila, calced and other: and

[16323]friars, brown and grey, sons of poor Francis, capuchins, cordeliers,

[16324]minimes and observants and the daughters of Clara: and the sons of

[16325]Dominic, the friars preachers, and the sons of Vincent: and the monks

[16326]of S. Wolstan: and Ignatius his children: and the confraternity of the

[16327]christian brothers led by the reverend brother Edmund Ignatius Rice. And

[16328]after came all saints and martyrs, virgins and confessors: S. Cyr and

[16329]S. Isidore Arator and S. James the Less and S. Phocas of Sinope and S.

[16330]Julian Hospitator and S. Felix de Cantalice and S. Simon Stylites and

[16331]S. Stephen Protomartyr and S. John of God and S. Ferreol and S. Leugarde

[16332]and S. Theodotus and S. Vulmar and S. Richard and S. Vincent de Paul and

[16333]S. Martin of Todi and S. Martin of Tours and S. Alfred and S. Joseph and

[16334]S. Denis and S. Cornelius and S. Leopold and S. Bernard and S. Terence

[16335]and S. Edward and S. Owen Caniculus and S. Anonymous and S. Eponymous

[16336]and S. Pseudonymous and S. Homonymous and S. Paronymous and S.

[16337]Synonymous and S. Laurence O’Toole and S. James of Dingle and

[16338]Compostella and S. Columcille and S. Columba and S. Celestine and S.

[16339]Colman and S. Kevin and S. Brendan and S. Frigidian and S. Senan and S.

[16340]Fachtna and S. Columbanus and S. Gall and S. Fursey and S. Fintan and S.

[16341]Fiacre and S. John Nepomuc and S. Thomas Aquinas and S. Ives of Brittany

[16342]and S. Michan and S. Herman-Joseph and the three patrons of holy youth

[16343]S. Aloysius Gonzaga and S. Stanislaus Kostka and S. John Berchmans

[16344]and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S. Bride and S.

[16345]Kieran and S. Canice of Kilkenny and S. Jarlath of Tuam and S. Finbarr

[16346]and S. Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother

[16347]Louis Bellicosus and the saints Rose of Lima and of Viterbo and S.

[16348]Martha of Bethany and S. Mary of Egypt and S. Lucy and S. Brigid and

[16349]S. Attracta and S. Dympna and S. Ita and S. Marion Calpensis and

[16350]the Blessed Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and S. Barbara and S.

[16351]Scholastica and S. Ursula with eleven thousand virgins. And all came

[16352]with nimbi and aureoles and gloriae, bearing palms and harps and swords

[16353]and olive crowns, in robes whereon were woven the blessed symbols of

[16354]their efficacies, inkhorns, arrows, loaves, cruses, fetters, axes,

[16355]trees, bridges, babes in a bathtub, shells, wallets, shears, keys,

[16356]dragons, lilies, buckshot, beards, hogs, lamps, bellows, beehives,

[16357]soupladles, stars, snakes, anvils, boxes of vaseline, bells, crutches,

[16358]forceps, stags’ horns, watertight boots, hawks, millstones, eyes on a

[16359]dish, wax candles, aspergills, unicorns. And as they wended their way

[16360]by Nelson’s Pillar, Henry street, Mary street, Capel street, Little

[16361]Britain street chanting the introit in Epiphania Domini which beginneth

[16362]Surge, illuminare and thereafter most sweetly the gradual Omnes which

[16363]saith de Saba venient they did divers wonders such as casting out

[16364]devils, raising the dead to life, multiplying fishes, healing the halt

[16365]and the blind, discovering various articles which had been mislaid,

[16366]interpreting and fulfilling the scriptures, blessing and prophesying.

[16367]And last, beneath a canopy of cloth of gold came the reverend Father

[16368]O’Flynn attended by Malachi and Patrick. And when the good fathers

[16369]had reached the appointed place, the house of Bernard Kiernan and Co,

[16370]limited, 8, 9 and 10 little Britain street, wholesale grocers, wine and

[16371]brandy shippers, licensed for the sale of beer, wine and spirits for

[16372]consumption on the premises, the celebrant blessed the house and censed

[16373]the mullioned windows and the groynes and the vaults and the arrises and

[16374]the capitals and the pediments and the cornices and the engrailed arches

[16375]and the spires and the cupolas and sprinkled the lintels thereof with

[16376]blessed water and prayed that God might bless that house as he had

[16377]blessed the house of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and make the angels of

[16378]His light to inhabit therein. And entering he blessed the viands and the

[16379]beverages and the company of all the blessed answered his prayers.

[16380]

[16381]—Adiutorium nostrum in nomine Domini.

[16382]

[16383]—Qui fecit cœlum et terram.

[16384]

[16385]—Dominus vobiscum.

[16386]

[16387]—Et cum spiritu tuo.

[16388]

[16389]And he laid his hands upon that he blessed and gave thanks and he prayed

[16390]and they all with him prayed:

[16391]

[16392]—Deus, cuius verbo sanctificantur omnia, benedictionem tuam effunde

[16393]super creaturas istas: et praesta ut quisquis eis secundum legem et

[16394]voluntatem Tuam cum gratiarum actione usus fuerit per invocationem

[16395]sanctissimi nominis Tui corporis sanitatem et animæ tutelam Te auctore

[16396]percipiat per Christum Dominum nostrum.

[16397]

[16398]—And so say all of us, says Jack.

[16399]

[16400]—Thousand a year, Lambert, says Crofton or Crawford.

[16401]

[16402]—Right, says Ned, taking up his John Jameson. And butter for fish.

[16403]

[16404]I was just looking around to see who the happy thought would strike when

[16405]be damned but in he comes again letting on to be in a hell of a hurry.

[16406]

[16407]—I was just round at the courthouse, says he, looking for you. I hope

[16408]I’m not...

[16409]

[16410]—No, says Martin, we’re ready.

[16411]

[16412]Courthouse my eye and your pockets hanging down with gold and silver.

[16413]Mean bloody scut. Stand us a drink itself. Devil a sweet fear! There’s

[16414]a jew for you! All for number one. Cute as a shithouse rat. Hundred to

[16415]five.

[16416]

[16417]—Don’t tell anyone, says the citizen.

[16418]

[16419]—Beg your pardon, says he.

[16420]

[16421]—Come on boys, says Martin, seeing it was looking blue. Come along

[16422]now.

[16423]

[16424]—Don’t tell anyone, says the citizen, letting a bawl out of him.

[16425]It’s a secret.

[16426]

[16427]And the bloody dog woke up and let a growl.

[16428]

[16429]—Bye bye all, says Martin.

[16430]

[16431]And he got them out as quick as he could, Jack Power and Crofton or

[16432]whatever you call him and him in the middle of them letting on to be all

[16433]at sea and up with them on the bloody jaunting car.

[16434]

[16435]—Off with you, says Martin to the jarvey.

[16436]

[16437]The milkwhite dolphin tossed his mane and, rising in the golden poop the

[16438]helmsman spread the bellying sail upon the wind and stood off forward

[16439]with all sail set, the spinnaker to larboard. A many comely nymphs drew

[16440]nigh to starboard and to larboard and, clinging to the sides of

[16441]the noble bark, they linked their shining forms as doth the cunning

[16442]wheelwright when he fashions about the heart of his wheel the

[16443]equidistant rays whereof each one is sister to another and he binds them

[16444]all with an outer ring and giveth speed to the feet of men whenas they

[16445]ride to a hosting or contend for the smile of ladies fair. Even so did

[16446]they come and set them, those willing nymphs, the undying sisters. And

[16447]they laughed, sporting in a circle of their foam: and the bark clave the

[16448]waves.

[16449]

[16450]But begob I was just lowering the heel of the pint when I saw the

[16451]citizen getting up to waddle to the door, puffing and blowing with the

[16452]dropsy, and he cursing the curse of Cromwell on him, bell, book and

[16453]candle in Irish, spitting and spatting out of him and Joe and little Alf

[16454]round him like a leprechaun trying to peacify him.

[16455]

[16456]—Let me alone, says he.

[16457]

[16458]And begob he got as far as the door and they holding him and he bawls

[16459]out of him:

[16460]

[16461]—Three cheers for Israel!

[16462]

[16463]Arrah, sit down on the parliamentary side of your arse for Christ’

[16464]sake and don’t be making a public exhibition of yourself. Jesus,

[16465]there’s always some bloody clown or other kicking up a bloody murder

[16466]about bloody nothing. Gob, it’d turn the porter sour in your guts, so

[16467]it would.

[16468]

[16469]And all the ragamuffins and sluts of the nation round the door and

[16470]Martin telling the jarvey to drive ahead and the citizen bawling and Alf

[16471]and Joe at him to whisht and he on his high horse about the jews and

[16472]the loafers calling for a speech and Jack Power trying to get him to sit

[16473]down on the car and hold his bloody jaw and a loafer with a patch over

[16474]his eye starts singing If the man in the moon was a jew, jew, jew and a

[16475]slut shouts out of her:

[16476]

[16477]—Eh, mister! Your fly is open, mister!

[16478]

[16479]And says he:

[16480]

[16481]—Mendelssohn was a jew and Karl Marx and Mercadante and Spinoza. And

[16482]the Saviour was a jew and his father was a jew. Your God.

[16483]

[16484]—He had no father, says Martin. That’ll do now. Drive ahead.

[16485]

[16486]—Whose God? says the citizen.

[16487]

[16488]—Well, his uncle was a jew, says he. Your God was a jew. Christ was a

[16489]jew like me.

[16490]

[16491]Gob, the citizen made a plunge back into the shop.

[16492]

[16493]—By Jesus, says he, I’ll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy

[16494]name.

[16495]

[16496]By Jesus, I’ll crucify him so I will. Give us that biscuitbox here.

[16497]

[16498]—Stop! Stop! says Joe.

[16499]

[16500]A large and appreciative gathering of friends and acquaintances from

[16501]the metropolis and greater Dublin assembled in their thousands to bid

[16502]farewell to Nagyaságos uram Lipóti Virag, late of Messrs Alexander

[16503]Thom’s, printers to His Majesty, on the occasion of his departure

[16504]for the distant clime of Százharminczbrojúgulyás-Dugulás (Meadow

[16505]of Murmuring Waters). The ceremony which went off with great éclat was

[16506]characterised by the most affecting cordiality. An illuminated scroll

[16507]of ancient Irish vellum, the work of Irish artists, was presented to

[16508]the distinguished phenomenologist on behalf of a large section of the

[16509]community and was accompanied by the gift of a silver casket, tastefully

[16510]executed in the style of ancient Celtic ornament, a work which reflects

[16511]every credit on the makers, Messrs Jacob agus Jacob. The departing guest

[16512]was the recipient of a hearty ovation, many of those who were present

[16513]being visibly moved when the select orchestra of Irish pipes struck

[16514]up the wellknown strains of Come Back to Erin, followed immediately

[16515]by Rakóczsy’s March. Tarbarrels and bonfires were lighted along the

[16516]coastline of the four seas on the summits of the Hill of Howth, Three

[16517]Rock Mountain, Sugarloaf, Bray Head, the mountains of Mourne, the

[16518]Galtees, the Ox and Donegal and Sperrin peaks, the Nagles and the

[16519]Bograghs, the Connemara hills, the reeks of M’Gillicuddy, Slieve

[16520]Aughty, Slieve Bernagh and Slieve Bloom. Amid cheers that rent the

[16521]welkin, responded to by answering cheers from a big muster of

[16522]henchmen on the distant Cambrian and Caledonian hills, the mastodontic

[16523]pleasureship slowly moved away saluted by a final floral tribute from

[16524]the representatives of the fair sex who were present in large numbers

[16525]while, as it proceeded down the river, escorted by a flotilla of barges,

[16526]the flags of the Ballast office and Custom House were dipped in salute

[16527]as were also those of the electrical power station at the Pigeonhouse

[16528]and the Poolbeg Light. Visszontlátásra, kedvés barátom!

[16529]Visszontlátásra! Gone but not forgotten.

[16530]

[16531]Gob, the devil wouldn’t stop him till he got hold of the bloody tin

[16532]anyhow and out with him and little Alf hanging on to his elbow and he

[16533]shouting like a stuck pig, as good as any bloody play in the Queen’s

[16534]royal theatre:

[16535]

[16536]—Where is he till I murder him?

[16537]

[16538]And Ned and J. J. paralysed with the laughing.

[16539]

[16540]—Bloody wars, says I, I’ll be in for the last gospel.

[16541]

[16542]But as luck would have it the jarvey got the nag’s head round the

[16543]other way and off with him.

[16544]

[16545]—Hold on, citizen, says Joe. Stop!

[16546]

[16547]Begob he drew his hand and made a swipe and let fly. Mercy of God the

[16548]sun was in his eyes or he’d have left him for dead. Gob, he near sent

[16549]it into the county Longford. The bloody nag took fright and the old

[16550]mongrel after the car like bloody hell and all the populace shouting and

[16551]laughing and the old tinbox clattering along the street.

[16552]

[16553]The catastrophe was terrific and instantaneous in its effect. The

[16554]observatory of Dunsink registered in all eleven shocks, all of the fifth

[16555]grade of Mercalli’s scale, and there is no record extant of a similar

[16556]seismic disturbance in our island since the earthquake of 1534, the year

[16557]of the rebellion of Silken Thomas. The epicentre appears to have been

[16558]that part of the metropolis which constitutes the Inn’s Quay ward and

[16559]parish of Saint Michan covering a surface of fortyone acres, two roods

[16560]and one square pole or perch. All the lordly residences in the vicinity

[16561]of the palace of justice were demolished and that noble edifice itself,

[16562]in which at the time of the catastrophe important legal debates were in

[16563]progress, is literally a mass of ruins beneath which it is to be

[16564]feared all the occupants have been buried alive. From the reports of

[16565]eyewitnesses it transpires that the seismic waves were accompanied by

[16566]a violent atmospheric perturbation of cyclonic character. An article of

[16567]headgear since ascertained to belong to the much respected clerk of the

[16568]crown and peace Mr George Fottrell and a silk umbrella with gold handle

[16569]with the engraved initials, crest, coat of arms and house number of

[16570]the erudite and worshipful chairman of quarter sessions sir Frederick

[16571]Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, have been discovered by search parties

[16572]in remote parts of the island respectively, the former on the third

[16573]basaltic ridge of the giant’s causeway, the latter embedded to the

[16574]extent of one foot three inches in the sandy beach of Holeopen bay near

[16575]the old head of Kinsale. Other eyewitnesses depose that they observed

[16576]an incandescent object of enormous proportions hurtling through the

[16577]atmosphere at a terrifying velocity in a trajectory directed southwest

[16578]by west. Messages of condolence and sympathy are being hourly received

[16579]from all parts of the different continents and the sovereign pontiff

[16580]has been graciously pleased to decree that a special missa pro defunctis

[16581]shall be celebrated simultaneously by the ordinaries of each and every

[16582]cathedral church of all the episcopal dioceses subject to the spiritual

[16583]authority of the Holy See in suffrage of the souls of those faithful

[16584]departed who have been so unexpectedly called away from our midst.

[16585]The work of salvage, removal of débris, human remains etc has been

[16586]entrusted to Messrs Michael Meade and Son, 159 Great Brunswick street,

[16587]and Messrs T. and C. Martin, 77, 78, 79 and 80 North Wall, assisted by

[16588]the men and officers of the Duke of Cornwall’s light infantry under

[16589]the general supervision of H. R. H., rear admiral, the right honourable

[16590]sir Hercules Hannibal Habeas Corpus Anderson, K. G., K. P., K. T., P.

[16591]C., K. C. B., M. P., J. P., M. B., D. S. O., S. O. D., M. F. H., M. R.

[16592]I. A., B. L., Mus. Doc., P. L. G., F. T. C. D., F. R. U. I., F. R. C. P.

[16593]I. and F. R. C. S. I.

[16594]

[16595]You never saw the like of it in all your born puff. Gob, if he got that

[16596]lottery ticket on the side of his poll he’d remember the gold cup, he

[16597]would so, but begob the citizen would have been lagged for assault and

[16598]battery and Joe for aiding and abetting. The jarvey saved his life by

[16599]furious driving as sure as God made Moses. What? O, Jesus, he did. And

[16600]he let a volley of oaths after him.

[16601]

[16602]—Did I kill him, says he, or what?

[16603]

[16604]And he shouting to the bloody dog:

[16605]

[16606]—After him, Garry! After him, boy!

[16607]

[16608]And the last we saw was the bloody car rounding the corner and old

[16609]sheepsface on it gesticulating and the bloody mongrel after it with his

[16610]lugs back for all he was bloody well worth to tear him limb from limb.

[16611]Hundred to five! Jesus, he took the value of it out of him, I promise

[16612]you.

[16613]

[16614]When, lo, there came about them all a great brightness and they beheld

[16615]the chariot wherein He stood ascend to heaven. And they beheld Him in

[16616]the chariot, clothed upon in the glory of the brightness, having raiment

[16617]as of the sun, fair as the moon and terrible that for awe they durst not

[16618]look upon Him. And there came a voice out of heaven, calling: Elijah!

[16619]Elijah! And He answered with a main cry: Abba! Adonai! And they beheld

[16620]Him even Him, ben Bloom Elijah, amid clouds of angels ascend to

[16621]the glory of the brightness at an angle of fortyfive degrees over

[16622]Donohoe’s in Little Green street like a shot off a shovel.

[16623]

[16624]

[16625]

[16626]

[16627]

[16628]

Joyce's Ulysses Concordance

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12. Cyclops