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<div type="episode" n="07">
<div><head><lb n="070001"/>IN THE HEART OF THE HIBERNIAN
<lb n="070002"/>METROPOLIS</head>
<p><lb n="070003"/>Before Nelson's pillar trams slowed, shunted, changed trolley, started
<lb n="070004"/>for Blackrock, Kingstown and Dalkey, Clonskea, Rathgar and Terenure,
<lb n="070005"/>Palmerston Park and upper Rathmines, Sandymount Green, Rathmines,
<lb n="070006"/>Ringsend and Sandymount Tower, Harold's Cross. The hoarse Dublin
<lb n="070007"/>United Tramway Company's timekeeper bawled them off:
<lb n="070008"/><said who="timekeeper">―Rathgar and Terenure!</said>
<lb n="070009"/><said who="timekeeper">―Come on, Sandymount Green!</said></p>
<p><lb n="070010"/>Right and left parallel clanging ringing a doubledecker and a
<lb n="070011"/>singledeck moved from their railheads, swerved to the down line, glided
<lb n="070012"/>parallel.
<lb n="070013"/><said who="timekeeper">―Start, Palmerston Park!</said></p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070014"/>THE WEARER OF THE CROWN</head>
<p><lb n="070015"/>Under the porch of the general post office shoeblacks called and
<lb n="070016"/>polished. Parked in North Prince's street His Majesty's vermilion mailcars,
<lb n="070017"/>bearing on their sides the royal initials, E. R., received loudly flung sacks of
<lb n="070018"/>letters, postcards, lettercards, parcels, insured and paid, for local,
<lb n="070019"/>provincial, British and overseas delivery.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070020"/>GENTLEMEN OF THE PRESS</head>
<p><lb n="070021"/>Grossbooted draymen rolled barrels dullthudding out of Prince's
<lb n="070022"/>stores and bumped them up on the brewery float. On the brewery float
<lb n="070023"/>bumped dullthudding barrels rolled by grossbooted draymen out of
<lb n="070024"/>Prince's stores.
<lb n="070025"/><said who="Red Murray">―There it is,</said> Red Murray said. <said who="Red Murray">Alexander Keyes.</said>
<lb n="070026"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―Just cut it out, will you?</said> Mr Bloom said, <said who="Leopold Bloom">and I'll take it round to the
<lb n="070027"/><title type="newspaper">Telegraph</title> office.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070028"/>The door of Ruttledge's office creaked again. Davy Stephens, minute
<lb n="070029"/>in a large capecoat, a small felt hat crowning his ringlets, passed out with a
<lb n="070030"/>roll of papers under his cape, a king's courier.</p>
<p><lb n="070031"/>Red Murray's long shears sliced out the advertisement from the
<lb n="070032"/>newspaper in four clean strokes. Scissors and paste.
<lb n="070033"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―I'll go through the printingworks,</said> Mr Bloom said, taking the cut square.
<lb n="070034"/><said who="Red Murray">―Of course, if he wants a par,</said> Red Murray said earnestly, a pen behind his
<lb n="070035"/>ear, <said who="Red Murray">we can do him one.</said>
<lb n="070036"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―Right,</said> Mr Bloom said with a nod. <said who="Leopold Bloom">I'll rub that in.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070037"/>We.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070038"/>WILLIAM BRAYDEN, ESQUIRE, OF OAKLANDS,
<lb n="070039"/>SANDYMOUNT</head>
<p><lb n="070040"/>Red Murray touched Mr Bloom's arm with the shears and whispered:
<lb n="070041"/><said who="Red Murray">―Brayden.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070042"/>Mr Bloom turned and saw the liveried porter raise his lettered cap as a
<lb n="070043"/>stately figure entered between the newsboards of the <title type="newspaper">Weekly Freeman and
<lb n="070044"/>National Press</title> and the <title type="newspaper">Freeman's Journal and National Press</title>. Dullthudding
<lb n="070045"/>Guinness's barrels. It passed statelily up the staircase, steered by an
<lb n="070046"/>umbrella, a solemn beardframed face. The broadcloth back ascended each
<lb n="070047"/>step: back. All his brains are in the nape of his neck, Simon Dedalus says.
<lb n="070048"/>Welts of flesh behind on him. Fat folds of neck, fat, neck, fat, neck.
<lb n="070049"/><said who="Red Murray">―Don't you think his face is like Our Saviour?</said> Red Murray whispered.</p>
<p><lb n="070050"/>The door of Ruttledge's office whispered: ee: cree. They always build
<lb n="070051"/>one door opposite another for the wind to. Way in. Way out.</p>
<p><lb n="070052"/>Our Saviour: beardframed oval face: talking in the dusk. Mary,
<lb n="070053"/>Martha. Steered by an umbrella sword to the footlights: Mario the tenor.
<lb n="070054"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―Or like Mario,</said> Mr Bloom said.
<lb n="070055"/><said who="Red Murray">―Yes,</said> Red Murray agreed. <said who="Red Murray">But Mario was said to be the picture of Our
<lb n="070056"/>Saviour.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070057"/>Jesusmario with rougy cheeks, doublet and spindle legs. Hand on his
<lb n="070058"/>heart. In <title type="opera">Martha</title>.</p>
<p rend="inset"><lb n="070059"/><emph>Co-ome thou lost one,
<lb n="070060"/>Co-ome thou dear one!</emph></p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070061"/>THE CROZIER AND THE PEN</head>
<p><lb n="070062"/><said who="Red Murray">―His grace phoned down twice this morning,</said> Red Murray said gravely.</p>
<p><lb n="070063"/>They watched the knees, legs, boots vanish. Neck.</p>
<p><lb n="070064"/>A telegram boy stepped in nimbly, threw an envelope on the counter
<lb n="070065"/>and stepped off posthaste with a word:
<lb n="070066"/><said who="telegram boy">―<title type="newspaper">Freeman!</title></said></p>
<p><lb n="070067"/>Mr Bloom said slowly:
<lb n="070068"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―Well, he is one of our saviours also.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070069"/>A meek smile accompanied him as he lifted the counterflap, as he
<lb n="070070"/>passed in through a sidedoor and along the warm dark stairs and passage,
<lb n="070071"/>along the now reverberating boards. But will he save the circulation?
<lb n="070072"/>Thumping. Thumping.</p>
<p><lb n="070073"/>He pushed in the glass swingdoor and entered, stepping over strewn
<lb n="070074"/>packing paper. Through a lane of clanking drums he made his way towards
<lb n="070075"/>Nannetti's reading closet.</p>
<p><lb n="070076"/>Hynes here too: account of the funeral probably. Thumping. Thump.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070077"/>WITH UNFEIGNED REGRET IT IS WE
<lb n="070078"/>ANNOUNCE THE DISSOLUTION OF A MOST
<lb n="070079"/>RESPECTED DUBLIN BURGESS</head>
<p><lb n="070080"/>This morning the remains of the late Mr Patrick Dignam. Machines.
<lb n="070081"/>Smash a man to atoms if they got him caught. Rule the world today. His
<lb n="070082"/>machineries are pegging away too. Like these, got out of hand: fermenting.
<lb n="070083"/>Working away, tearing away. And that old grey rat tearing to get in.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070084"/>HOW A GREAT DAILY ORGAN IS TURNED OUT</head>
<p><lb n="070085"/>Mr Bloom halted behind the foreman's spare body, admiring a glossy
<lb n="070086"/>crown.</p>
<p><lb n="070087"/>Strange he never saw his real country. Ireland my country. Member
<lb n="070088"/>for College green. He boomed that workaday worker tack for all it was
<lb n="070089"/>worth. It's the ads and side features sell a weekly, not the stale news in the
<lb n="070090"/>official gazette. Queen Anne is dead. Published by authority in the year one
<lb n="070091"/>thousand and. Demesne situate in the townland of Rosenallis, barony of
<lb n="070092"/>Tinnahinch. To all whom it may concern schedule pursuant to statute
<lb n="070093"/>showing return of number of mules and jennets exported from Ballina.
<lb n="070094"/>Nature notes. Cartoons. Phil Blake's weekly Pat and Bull story. Uncle
<lb n="070095"/>Toby's page for tiny tots. Country bumpkin's queries. Dear Mr Editor,
<lb n="070096"/>what is a good cure for flatulence? I'd like that part. Learn a lot teaching
<lb n="070097"/>others. The personal note. M. A. P. Mainly all pictures. Shapely bathers on
<lb n="070098"/>golden strand. World's biggest balloon. Double marriage of sisters
<lb n="070099"/>celebrated. Two bridegrooms laughing heartily at each other. Cuprani too,
<lb n="070100"/>printer. More Irish than the Irish.</p>
<p><lb n="070101"/>The machines clanked in threefour time. Thump, thump, thump.
<lb n="070102"/>Now if he got paralysed there and no-one knew how to stop them they'd
<lb n="070103"/>clank on and on the same, print it over and over and up and back.
<lb n="070104"/>Monkeydoodle the whole thing. Want a cool head.
<lb n="070105"/><said who="Joe Hynes">―Well, get it into the evening edition, councillor,</said> Hynes said.</p>
<p><lb n="070106"/>Soon be calling him my lord mayor. Long John is backing him, they
<lb n="070107"/>say.</p>
<p><lb n="070108"/>The foreman, without answering, scribbled press on a corner of the
<lb n="070109"/>sheet and made a sign to a typesetter. He handed the sheet silently over the
<lb n="070110"/>dirty glass screen.
<lb n="070111"/><said who="Joe Hynes">―Right: thanks,</said> Hynes said moving off.</p>
<p><lb n="070112"/>Mr Bloom stood in his way.
<lb n="070113"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―If you want to draw the cashier is just going to lunch,</said> he said, pointing
<lb n="070114"/>backward with his thumb.
<lb n="070115"/><said who="Joe Hynes">―Did you?</said> Hynes asked.
<lb n="070116"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―Mm,</said> Mr Bloom said. <said who="Leopold Bloom">Look sharp and you'll catch him.</said>
<lb n="070117"/><said who="Joe Hynes">―Thanks, old man,</said> Hynes said. <said who="Joe Hynes">I'll tap him too.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070118"/>He hurried on eagerly towards the <title type="newspaper">Freeman's Journal</title> office.</p>
<p><lb n="070119"/>Three bob I lent him in Meagher's. Three weeks. Third hint.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070120"/>WE SEE THE CANVASSER AT WORK</head>
<p><lb n="070121"/>Mr Bloom laid his cutting on Mr Nannetti's desk.
<lb n="070122"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―Excuse me, councillor,</said> he said. <said who="Leopold Bloom">This ad, you see. Keyes, you remember?</said></p>
<p><lb n="070123"/>Mr Nannetti considered the cutting awhile and nodded.
<lb n="070124"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―He wants it in for July,</said> Mr Bloom said.</p>
<p><lb n="070125"/>The foreman moved his pencil towards it.
<lb n="070126"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―But wait,</said> Mr Bloom said. <said who="Leopold Bloom">He wants it changed. Keyes, you see. He wants
<lb n="070127"/>two keys at the top.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070128"/>Hell of a racket they make. He doesn't hear it. Nannan. Iron nerves.
<lb n="070129"/>Maybe he understands what I.</p>
<p><lb n="070130"/>The foreman turned round to hear patiently and, lifting an elbow,
<lb n="070131"/>began to scratch slowly in the armpit of his alpaca jacket.
<lb n="070132"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―Like that,</said> Mr Bloom said, crossing his forefingers at the top.</p>
<p><lb n="070133"/>Let him take that in first.</p>
<p><lb n="070134"/>Mr Bloom, glancing sideways up from the cross he had made, saw the
<lb n="070135"/>foreman's sallow face, think he has a touch of jaundice, and beyond the
<lb n="070136"/>obedient reels feeding in huge webs of paper. Clank it. Clank it. Miles of it
<lb n="070137"/>unreeled. What becomes of it after? O, wrap up meat, parcels: various uses,
<lb n="070138"/>thousand and one things.</p>
<p><lb n="070139"/>Slipping his words deftly into the pauses of the clanking he drew
<lb n="070140"/>swiftly on the scarred woodwork.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070141"/>HOUSE OF KEY(E)S</head>
<p><lb n="070142"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―Like that, see. Two crossed keys here. A circle. Then here the name.
<lb n="070143"/>Alexander Keyes, tea, wine and spirit merchant. So on.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070144"/>Better not teach him his own business.
<lb n="070145"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―You know yourself, councillor, just what he wants. Then round the top in
<lb n="070146"/>leaded: the house of keys. You see? Do you think that's a good idea?</said></p>
<p><lb n="070147"/>The foreman moved his scratching hand to his lower ribs and
<lb n="070148"/>scratched there quietly.
<lb n="070149"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―The idea,</said> Mr Bloom said, <said who="Leopold Bloom">is the house of keys. You know, councillor, the
<lb n="070150"/>Manx parliament. Innuendo of home rule. Tourists, you know, from the isle
<lb n="070151"/>of Man. Catches the eye, you see. Can you do that?</said></p>
<p><lb n="070152"/>I could ask him perhaps about how to pronounce that <foreign xml:lang="it">voglio</foreign>. But
<lb n="070153"/>then if he didn't know only make it awkward for him. Better not.
<lb n="070154"/><said who="Joseph Patrick Nannetti">―We can do that,</said> the foreman said. <said who="Joseph Patrick Nannetti">Have you the design?</said>
<lb n="070155"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―I can get it,</said> Mr Bloom said. <said who="Leopold Bloom">It was in a Kilkenny paper. He has a house
<lb n="070156"/>there too. I'll just run out and ask him. Well, you can do that and just a little
<lb n="070157"/>par calling attention. You know the usual. Highclass licensed premises.
<lb n="070158"/>Longfelt want. So on.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070159"/>The foreman thought for an instant.
<lb n="070160"/><said who="Joseph Patrick Nannetti">―We can do that,</said> he said. <said who="Joseph Patrick Nannetti">Let him give us a three months' renewal.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070161"/>A typesetter brought him a limp galleypage. He began to check it
<lb n="070162"/>silently. Mr Bloom stood by, hearing the loud throbs of cranks, watching
<lb n="070163"/>the silent typesetters at their cases.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070164"/>ORTHOGRAPHICAL</head>
<p><lb n="070165"/>Want to be sure of his spelling. Proof fever. Martin Cunningham
<lb n="070166"/>forgot to give us his spellingbee conundrum this morning. It is amusing to
<lb n="070167"/>view the unpar one ar alleled embarra two ars is it? double ess ment of a
<lb n="070168"/>harassed pedlar while gauging au the symmetry with a y of a peeled pear
<lb n="070169"/>under a cemetery wall. Silly, isn't it? Cemetery put in of course on account
<lb n="070170"/>of the symmetry.</p>
<p><lb n="070171"/>I should have said when he clapped on his topper. Thank you. I ought
<lb n="070172"/>to have said something about an old hat or something. No. I could have
<lb n="070173"/>said. Looks as good as new now. See his phiz then.</p>
<p><lb n="070174"/>Sllt. The nethermost deck of the first machine jogged forward its
<lb n="070175"/>flyboard with sllt the first batch of quirefolded papers. Sllt. Almost human
<lb n="070176"/>the way it sllt to call attention. Doing its level best to speak. That door too
<lb n="070177"/>sllt creaking, asking to be shut. Everything speaks in its own way. Sllt.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070178"/>NOTED CHURCHMAN AN OCCASIONAL
<lb n="070179"/>CONTRIBUTOR</head>
<p><lb n="070180"/>The foreman handed back the galleypage suddenly, saying:
<lb n="070181"/><said who="Joseph Patrick Nannetti">―Wait. Where's the archbishop's letter? It's to be repeated in the <title type="newspaper">Telegraph</title>.
<lb n="070182"/>Where's what's his name?</said></p>
<p><lb n="070183"/>He looked about him round his loud unanswering machines.
<lb n="070184"/><said who="unnamed printer">―Monks, sir?</said> a voice asked from the castingbox.
<lb n="070185"/><said who="Joseph Patrick Nannetti">―Ay. Where's Monks?</said>
<lb n="070186"/><said who="unnamed printer">―Monks!</said></p>
<p><lb n="070187"/>Mr Bloom took up his cutting. Time to get out.
<lb n="070188"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―Then I'll get the design, Mr Nannetti,</said> he said, <said who="Leopold Bloom">and you'll give it a good
<lb n="070189"/>place I know.</said>
<lb n="070190"/><said who="Joseph Patrick Nannetti">―Monks!</said>
<lb n="070191"/><said who="Old Monks">―Yes, sir.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070192"/>Three months' renewal. Want to get some wind off my chest first. Try
<lb n="070193"/>it anyhow. Rub in August: good idea: horseshow month. Ballsbridge.
<lb n="070194"/>Tourists over for the show.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070195"/>A DAYFATHER</head>
<p><lb n="070196"/>He walked on through the caseroom passing an old man, bowed,
<lb n="070197"/>spectacled, aproned. Old Monks, the dayfather. Queer lot of stuff he must
<lb n="070198"/>have put through his hands in his time: obituary notices, pubs' ads,
<lb n="070199"/>speeches, divorce suits, found drowned. Nearing the end of his tether now.
<lb n="070200"/>Sober serious man with a bit in the savingsbank I'd say. Wife a good cook
<lb n="070201"/>and washer. Daughter working the machine in the parlour. Plain Jane, no
<lb n="070202"/>damn nonsense.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070203"/>AND IT WAS THE FEAST OF THE PASSOVER</head>
<p><lb n="070204"/>He stayed in his walk to watch a typesetter neatly distributing type.
<lb n="070205"/>Reads it backwards first. Quickly he does it. Must require some practice
<lb n="070206"/>that. mangiD kcirtaP. Poor papa with his hagadah book, reading
<lb n="070207"/>backwards with his finger to me. Pessach. Next year in Jerusalem. Dear, O
<lb n="070208"/>dear! All that long business about that brought us out of the land of Egypt
<lb n="070209"/>and into the house of bondage <foreign xml:lang="grc-Latn">alleluia</foreign>. <foreign xml:lang="he">Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu.</foreign> No,
<lb n="070210"/>that's the other. Then the twelve brothers, Jacob's sons. And then the lamb
<lb n="070211"/>and the cat and the dog and the stick and the water and the butcher. And
<lb n="070212"/>then the angel of death kills the butcher and he kills the ox and the dog kills
<lb n="070213"/>the cat. Sounds a bit silly till you come to look into it well. Justice it means
<lb n="070214"/>but it's everybody eating everyone else. That's what life is after all. How
<lb n="070215"/>quickly he does that job. Practice makes perfect. Seems to see with his
<lb n="070216"/>fingers.</p>
<p><lb n="070217"/>Mr Bloom passed on out of the clanking noises through the gallery on
<lb n="070218"/>to the landing. Now am I going to tram it out all the way and then catch
<lb n="070219"/>him out perhaps. Better phone him up first. Number? Yes. Same as Citron's
<lb n="070220"/>house. Twentyeight. Twentyeight double four.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070221"/>ONLY ONCE MORE THAT SOAP</head>
<p><lb n="070222"/>He went down the house staircase. Who the deuce scrawled all over
<lb n="070223"/>those walls with matches? Looks as if they did it for a bet. Heavy greasy
<lb n="070224"/>smell there always is in those works. Lukewarm glue in Thom's next door
<lb n="070225"/>when I was there.</p>
<p><lb n="070226"/>He took out his handkerchief to dab his nose. Citronlemon? Ah, the
<lb n="070227"/>soap I put there. Lose it out of that pocket. Putting back his handkerchief
<lb n="070228"/>he took out the soap and stowed it away, buttoned, into the hip pocket of
<lb n="070229"/>his trousers.</p>
<p><lb n="070230"/>What perfume does your wife use? I could go home still: tram:
<lb n="070231"/>something I forgot. Just to see: before: dressing. No. Here. No.</p>
<p><lb n="070232"/>A sudden screech of laughter came from the <title type="newspaper">Evening Telegraph</title>
<lb n="070233"/>office. Know who that is. What's up? Pop in a minute to phone. Ned
<lb n="070234"/>Lambert it is.</p>
<p><lb n="070235"/>He entered softly.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070236"/>ERIN, GREEN GEM OF THE SILVER SEA</head>
<p><lb n="070237"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―The ghost walks,</said> professor MacHugh murmured softly, biscuitfully to
<lb n="070238"/>the dusty windowpane.</p>
<p><lb n="070239"/>Mr Dedalus, staring from the empty fireplace at Ned Lambert's
<lb n="070240"/>quizzing face, asked of it sourly:
<lb n="070241"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Agonising Christ, wouldn't it give you a heartburn on your arse?</said></p>
<p><lb n="070242"/>Ned Lambert, seated on the table, read on:
<lb n="070243"/><said who="Ned Lambert">―<said who="Dan Dawson" rend="italics">Or again, note the meanderings of some purling rill as it babbles on its
<lb n="070244"/>way, tho' quarrelling with the stony obstacles, to the tumbling waters of
<lb n="070245"/>Neptune's blue domain, 'mid mossy banks, fanned by gentlest zephyrs,
<lb n="070246"/>played on by the glorious sunlight or 'neath the shadows cast o'er its pensive
<lb n="070247"/>bosom by the overarching leafage of the giants of the forest.</said> What about
<lb n="070248"/>that, Simon?</said> he asked over the fringe of his newspaper. <said who="Ned Lambert">How's that for
<lb n="070249"/>high?</said>
<lb n="070250"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Changing his drink,</said> Mr Dedalus said.</p>
<p><lb n="070251"/>Ned Lambert, laughing, struck the newspaper on his knees,
<lb n="070252"/>repeating:
<lb n="070253"/><said who="Ned Lambert">―<said who="Dan Dawson" rend="italics">The pensive bosom and the overarsing leafage.</said> O boys! O boys!</said>
<lb n="070254"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―And Xenophon looked upon Marathon,</said> Mr Dedalus said, looking again
<lb n="070255"/>on the fireplace and to the window, <said who="Simon Dedalus">and Marathon looked on the sea.</said>
<lb n="070256"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―That will do,</said> professor MacHugh cried from the window. <said who="professor MacHugh">I don't want to
<lb n="070257"/>hear any more of the stuff.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070258"/>He ate off the crescent of water biscuit he had been nibbling and,
<lb n="070259"/>hungered, made ready to nibble the biscuit in his other hand.</p>
<p><lb n="070260"/>High falutin stuff. Bladderbags. Ned Lambert is taking a day off I
<lb n="070261"/>see. Rather upsets a man's day, a funeral does. He has influence they say.
<lb n="070262"/>Old Chatterton, the vicechancellor, is his granduncle or his
<lb n="070263"/>greatgranduncle. Close on ninety they say. Subleader for his death written
<lb n="070264"/>this long time perhaps. Living to spite them. Might go first himself. Johnny,
<lb n="070265"/>make room for your uncle. The right honourable Hedges Eyre Chatterton.
<lb n="070266"/>Daresay he writes him an odd shaky cheque or two on gale days. Windfall
<lb n="070267"/>when he kicks out. Alleluia.
<lb n="070268"/><said who="Ned Lambert">―Just another spasm,</said> Ned Lambert said.
<lb n="070269"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―What is it?</said> Mr Bloom asked.
<lb n="070270"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―A recently discovered fragment of Cicero,</said> professor MacHugh answered
<lb n="070271"/>with pomp of tone. <said who="professor MacHugh"><title type="speech">Our lovely land.</title></said></p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070272"/>SHORT BUT TO THE POINT</head>
<p><lb n="070273"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―Whose land?</said> Mr Bloom said simply.
<lb n="070274"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―Most pertinent question,</said> the professor said between his chews. <said who="professor MacHugh">With an
<lb n="070275"/>accent on the whose.</said>
<lb n="070276"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Dan Dawson's land,</said> Mr Dedalus said.
<lb n="070277"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―Is it his speech last night?</said> Mr Bloom asked.</p>
<p><lb n="070278"/>Ned Lambert nodded.
<lb n="070279"/><said who="Ned Lambert">―But listen to this,</said> he said.</p>
<p><lb n="070280"/>The doorknob hit Mr Bloom in the small of the back as the door was
<lb n="070281"/>pushed in.
<lb n="070282"/><said who="J.J. O'Molloy">―Excuse me,</said> J. J. O'Molloy said, entering.</p>
<p><lb n="070283"/>Mr Bloom moved nimbly aside.
<lb n="070284"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―I beg yours,</said> he said.
<lb n="070285"/><said who="unclear: not Bloom; not J.J. O'Molly – Simon Dedalus?">―Good day, Jack.</said>
<lb n="070286"/><said who="unclear: not Bloom or O'Molloy">―Come in. Come in.</said>
<lb n="070287"/><said who="unclear: J.J. O'Molloy?">―Good day.</said>
<lb n="070288"/><said who="J.J. O'Molloy">―How are you, Dedalus?</said>
<lb n="070289"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Well. And yourself?</said></p>
<p><lb n="070290"/>J. J. O'Molloy shook his head.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070291"/>SAD</head>
<p><lb n="070292"/>Cleverest fellow at the junior bar he used to be. Decline, poor chap.
<lb n="070293"/>That hectic flush spells finis for a man. Touch and go with him. What's in
<lb n="070294"/>the wind, I wonder. Money worry.
<lb n="070295"/><said who="Ned Lambert">―<said who="Dan Dawson" rend="italics">Or again if we but climb the serried mountain peaks.</said></said>
<lb n="070296"/><said who="unclear: Simon Dedalus?">―You're looking extra.</said>
<lb n="070297"/><said who="J.J. O'Molloy">―Is the editor to be seen?</said> J. J. O'Molloy asked, looking towards the inner
<lb n="070298"/>door.
<lb n="070299"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―Very much so,</said> professor MacHugh said. <said who="professor MacHugh">To be seen and heard. He's in
<lb n="070300"/>his sanctum with Lenehan.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070301"/>J. J. O'Molloy strolled to the sloping desk and began to turn back the
<lb n="070302"/>pink pages of the file.</p>
<p><lb n="070303"/>Practice dwindling. A mighthavebeen. Losing heart. Gambling. Debts
<lb n="070304"/>of honour. Reaping the whirlwind. Used to get good retainers from D. and
<lb n="070305"/>T. Fitzgerald. Their wigs to show the grey matter. Brains on their sleeve
<lb n="070306"/>like the statue in Glasnevin. Believe he does some literary work for the
<lb n="070307"/><title type="newspaper">Express</title> with Gabriel Conroy. Wellread fellow. Myles Crawford began on
<lb n="070308"/>the <title type="newspaper">Independent</title>. Funny the way those newspaper men veer about when
<lb n="070309"/>they get wind of a new opening. Weathercocks. Hot and cold in the same
<lb n="070310"/>breath. Wouldn't know which to believe. One story good till you hear the
<lb n="070311"/>next. Go for one another baldheaded in the papers and then all blows over.
<lb n="070312"/>Hail fellow well met the next moment.
<lb n="070313"/><said who="Ned Lambert">―Ah, listen to this for God' sake,</said> Ned Lambert pleaded. <said who="Ned Lambert"><said who="Dan Dawson" rend="italics">Or again if we but
<lb n="070314"/>climb the serried mountain peaks</said> ...</said>
<lb n="070315"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―Bombast!</said> the professor broke in testily. <said who="professor MacHugh">Enough of the inflated windbag!</said>
<lb n="070316"/><said who="Ned Lambert">―<said who="Dan Dawson" rend="italics">Peaks</said>,</said> Ned Lambert went on, <said who="Ned Lambert"><said who="Dan Dawson" rend="italics">towering high on high, to bathe our souls,
<lb n="070317"/>as it were</said> ...</said>
<lb n="070318"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Bathe his lips,</said> Mr Dedalus said. <said who="Simon Dedalus">Blessed and eternal God! Yes? Is he
<lb n="070319"/>taking anything for it?</said>
<lb n="070320"/><said who="Ned Lambert">―<said who="Dan Dawson" rend="italics">As 'twere, in the peerless panorama of Ireland's portfolio, unmatched,
<lb n="070321"/>despite their wellpraised prototypes in other vaunted prize regions, for very
<lb n="070322"/>beauty, of bosky grove and undulating plain and luscious pastureland of
<lb n="070323"/>vernal green, steeped in the transcendent translucent glow of our mild
<lb n="070324"/>mysterious Irish twilight</said> ...</said>
<lb n="070325"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―The moon,</said> professor MacHugh said. <said who="professor MacHugh">He forgot Hamlet.</said></p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070326"/>HIS NATIVE DORIC</head>
<p><lb n="070327"/><said who="Ned Lambert">―<said who="Dan Dawson" rend="italics">That mantles the vista far and wide and wait till the glowing orb of the
<lb n="070328"/>moon shine forth to irradiate her silver effulgence</said> ...</said>
<lb n="070329"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―O!</said> Mr Dedalus cried, giving vent to a hopeless groan. <said who="Simon Dedalus">Shite and onions!
<lb n="070330"/>That'll do, Ned. Life is too short.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070331"/>He took off his silk hat and, blowing out impatiently his bushy
<lb n="070332"/>moustache, welshcombed his hair with raking fingers.</p>
<p><lb n="070333"/>Ned Lambert tossed the newspaper aside, chuckling with delight. An
<lb n="070334"/>instant after a hoarse bark of laughter burst over professor MacHugh's
<lb n="070335"/>unshaven blackspectacled face.
<lb n="070336"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―Doughy Daw!</said> he cried.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070337"/>WHAT WETHERUP SAID</head>
<p><lb n="070338"/>All very fine to jeer at it now in cold print but it goes down like hot
<lb n="070339"/>cake that stuff. He was in the bakery line too, wasn't he? Why they call him
<lb n="070340"/>Doughy Daw. Feathered his nest well anyhow. Daughter engaged to that
<lb n="070341"/>chap in the inland revenue office with the motor. Hooked that nicely.
<lb n="070342"/>Entertainments. Open house. Big blowout. Wetherup always said that. Get
<lb n="070343"/>a grip of them by the stomach.</p>
<p><lb n="070344"/>The inner door was opened violently and a scarlet beaked face,
<lb n="070345"/>crested by a comb of feathery hair, thrust itself in. The bold blue eyes stared
<lb n="070346"/>about them and the harsh voice asked:
<lb n="070347"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―What is it?</said>
<lb n="070348"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―And here comes the sham squire himself!</said> professor MacHugh said
<lb n="070349"/>grandly.
<lb n="070350"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―Getonouthat, you bloody old pedagogue!</said> the editor said in recognition.
<lb n="070351"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Come, Ned,</said> Mr Dedalus said, putting on his hat. <said who="Simon Dedalus">I must get a drink after
<lb n="070352"/>that.</said>
<lb n="070353"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―Drink!</said> the editor cried. <said who="Myles Crawford">No drinks served before mass.</said>
<lb n="070354"/><said who="Simon Dedalus">―Quite right too,</said> Mr Dedalus said, going out. <said who="Simon Dedalus">Come on, Ned.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070355"/>Ned Lambert sidled down from the table. The editor's blue eyes roved
<lb n="070356"/>towards Mr Bloom's face, shadowed by a smile.
<lb n="070357"/><said who="Ned Lambert">―Will you join us, Myles?</said> Ned Lambert asked.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070358"/>MEMORABLE BATTLES RECALLED</head>
<p><lb n="070359"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―North Cork militia!</said> the editor cried, striding to the mantelpiece. <said who="Myles Crawford">We won
<lb n="070360"/>every time! North Cork and Spanish officers!</said>
<lb n="070361"/><said who="Ned Lambert">―Where was that, Myles?</said> Ned Lambert asked with a reflective glance at his
<lb n="070362"/>toecaps.
<lb n="070363"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―In Ohio!</said> the editor shouted.
<lb n="070364"/><said who="Ned Lambert">―So it was, begad,</said> Ned Lambert agreed.</p>
<p><lb n="070365"/>Passing out he whispered to J. J. O'Molloy:
<lb n="070366"/><said who="Ned Lambert">―Incipient jigs. Sad case.</said>
<lb n="070367"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―Ohio!</said> the editor crowed in high treble from his uplifted scarlet face. <said who="Myles Crawford">My
<lb n="070368"/>Ohio!</said>
<lb n="070369"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―A perfect cretic!</said> the professor said. <said who="professor MacHugh">Long, short and long.</said></p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070370"/>O, HARP EOLIAN!</head>
<p><lb n="070371"/>He took a reel of dental floss from his waistcoat pocket and, breaking
<lb n="070372"/>off a piece, twanged it smartly between two and two of his resonant
<lb n="070373"/>unwashed teeth.
<lb n="070374"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―Bingbang, bangbang.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070375"/>Mr Bloom, seeing the coast clear, made for the inner door.
<lb n="070376"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―Just a moment, Mr Crawford,</said> he said. <said who="Leopold Bloom">I just want to phone about an ad.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070377"/>He went in.
<lb n="070378"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―What about that leader this evening?</said> professor MacHugh asked, coming
<lb n="070379"/>to the editor and laying a firm hand on his shoulder.
<lb n="070380"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―That'll be all right,</said> Myles Crawford said more calmly. <said who="Myles Crawford">Never you fret.
<lb n="070381"/>Hello, Jack. That's all right.</said>
<lb n="070382"/><said who="J.J. O'Molloy">―Good day, Myles,</said> J. J. O'Molloy said, letting the pages he held slip limply
<lb n="070383"/>back on the file. <said who="J.J. O'Molloy">Is that Canada swindle case on today?</said></p>
<p><lb n="070384"/>The telephone whirred inside.
<lb n="070385"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―Twentyeight. No. Twenty. Double four, yes.</said></p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070386"/>SPOT THE WINNER</head>
<p><lb n="070387"/>Lenehan came out of the inner office with <title type="newspaper">Sport</title>'s tissues.
<lb n="070388"/><said who="Lenehan">―Who wants a dead cert for the Gold cup? he asked. <name type="horse" rend="none">Sceptre</name> with O.
<lb n="070389"/>Madden up.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070390"/>He tossed the tissues on to the table.</p>
<p><lb n="070391"/>Screams of newsboys barefoot in the hall rushed near and the door
<lb n="070392"/>was flung open.
<lb n="070393"/><said who="Lenehan">―Hush,</said> Lenehan said. <said who="Lenehan">I hear feetstoops.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070394"/>Professor MacHugh strode across the room and seized the cringing
<lb n="070395"/>urchin by the collar as the others scampered out of the hall and down the
<lb n="070396"/>steps. The tissues rustled up in the draught, floated softly in the air blue
<lb n="070397"/>scrawls and under the table came to earth.
<lb n="070398"/><said who="newsboy_1">―It wasn't me, sir. It was the big fellow shoved me, sir.</said>
<lb n="070399"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―Throw him out and shut the door,</said> the editor said. <said who="Myles Crawford">There's a hurricane
<lb n="070400"/>blowing.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070401"/>Lenehan began to paw the tissues up from the floor, grunting as he
<lb n="070402"/>stooped twice.
<lb n="070403"/><said who="newsboy_1">―Waiting for the racing special, sir,</said> the newsboy said. <said who="newsboy_1">It was Pat Farrell
<lb n="070404"/>shoved me, sir.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070405"/>He pointed to two faces peering in round the doorframe.
<lb n="070406"/><said who="newsboy_1">―Him, sir.</said>
<lb n="070407"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―Out of this with you,</said> professor MacHugh said gruffly.</p>
<p><lb n="070408"/>He hustled the boy out and banged the door to.</p>
<p><lb n="070409"/>J. J. O'Molloy turned the files crackingly over, murmuring, seeking:
<lb n="070410"/><said who="J.J. O'Molloy">―Continued on page six, column four.</said>
<lb n="070411"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―Yes, <title type="newspaper">Evening Telegraph</title> here,</said> Mr Bloom phoned from the inner office. <said who="Leopold Bloom">Is
<lb n="070412"/>the boss ...? Yes, <title type="newspaper">Telegraph</title> .... To where? Aha! Which auction rooms? ...
<lb n="070413"/>Aha! I see. Right. I'll catch him.</said></p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070414"/>A COLLISION ENSUES</head>
<p><lb n="070415"/>The bell whirred again as he rang off. He came in quickly and
<lb n="070416"/>bumped against Lenehan who was struggling up with the second tissue.
<lb n="070417"/><said who="Lenehan">―<foreign xml:lang="fr">Pardon, monsieur</foreign>,</said> Lenehan said, clutching him for an instant and making
<lb n="070418"/>a grimace.
<lb n="070419"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―My fault,</said> Mr Bloom said, suffering his grip. <said who="Leopold Bloom">Are you hurt? I'm in a hurry.</said>
<lb n="070420"/><said who="Lenehan">―Knee,</said> Lenehan said.</p>
<p><lb n="070421"/>He made a comic face and whined, rubbing his knee:
<lb n="070422"/><said who="Lenehan">―The accumulation of the <foreign xml:lang="la">anno Domini</foreign>.</said>
<lb n="070423"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―Sorry,</said> Mr Bloom said.</p>
<p><lb n="070424"/>He went to the door and, holding it ajar, paused. J. J. O'Molloy
<lb n="070425"/>slapped the heavy pages over. The noise of two shrill voices, a mouthorgan,
<lb n="070426"/>echoed in the bare hallway from the newsboys squatted on the doorsteps:
<lb n="070427"/><said who="newsboys">―<quote>We are the boys of Wexford
<lb n="070428"/>Who fought with heart and hand.</quote></said></p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070429"/>EXIT BLOOM</head>
<p><lb n="070430"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―I'm just running round to Bachelor's walk,</said> Mr Bloom said, <said who="Leopold Bloom">about this ad
<lb n="070431"/>of Keyes's. Want to fix it up. They tell me he's round there in Dillon's.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070432"/>He looked indecisively for a moment at their faces. The editor who,
<lb n="070433"/>leaning against the mantelshelf, had propped his head on his hand,
<lb n="070434"/>suddenly stretched forth an arm amply.
<lb n="070435"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―Begone!</said> he said. <said who="Myles Crawford">The world is before you.</said>
<lb n="070436"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―Back in no time,</said> Mr Bloom said, hurrying out.</p>
<p><lb n="070437"/>J. J. O'Molloy took the tissues from Lenehan's hand and read them,
<lb n="070438"/>blowing them apart gently, without comment.
<lb n="070439"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―He'll get that advertisement,</said> the professor said, staring through his
<lb n="070440"/>blackrimmed spectacles over the crossblind. <said who="professor MacHugh">Look at the young scamps after
<lb n="070441"/>him.</said>
<lb n="070442"/><said who="Lenehan">―Show. Where?</said> Lenehan cried, running to the window.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070443"/>A STREET CORTÈGE</head>
<p><lb n="070444"/>Both smiled over the crossblind at the file of capering newsboys in Mr
<lb n="070445"/>Bloom's wake, the last zigzagging white on the breeze a mocking kite, a tail
<lb n="070446"/>of white bowknots.
<lb n="070447"/><said who="Lenehan">―Look at the young guttersnipe behind him hue and cry,</said> Lenehan said, <said who="Lenehan">and
<lb n="070448"/>you'll kick. O, my rib risible! Taking off his flat spaugs and the walk. Small
<lb n="070449"/>nines. Steal upon larks.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070450"/>He began to mazurka in swift caricature across the floor on sliding
<lb n="070451"/>feet past the fireplace to J. J. O'Molloy who placed the tissues in his
<lb n="070452"/>receiving hands.
<lb n="070453"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―What's that?</said> Myles Crawford said with a start. <said who="Myles Crawford">Where are the other two
<lb n="070454"/>gone?</said>
<lb n="070455"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―Who?</said> the professor said, turning. <said who="professor MacHugh">They're gone round to the Oval for a
<lb n="070456"/>drink. Paddy Hooper is there with Jack Hall. Came over last night.</said>
<lb n="070457"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―Come on then,</said> Myles Crawford said. <said who="Myles Crawford">Where's my hat?</said></p>
<p><lb n="070458"/>He walked jerkily into the office behind, parting the vent of his jacket,
<lb n="070459"/>jingling his keys in his back pocket. They jingled then in the air and against
<lb n="070460"/>the wood as he locked his desk drawer.
<lb n="070461"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―He's pretty well on,</said> professor MacHugh said in a low voice.
<lb n="070462"/><said who="J.J. O'Molloy">―Seems to be,</said> J. J. O'Molloy said, taking out a cigarettecase in murmuring
<lb n="070463"/>meditation, <said who="J.J. O'Molloy">but it is not always as it seems. Who has the most matches?</said></p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070464"/>THE CALUMET OF PEACE</head>
<p><lb n="070465"/>He offered a cigarette to the professor and took one himself. Lenehan
<lb n="070466"/>promptly struck a match for them and lit their cigarettes in turn. J. J.
<lb n="070467"/>O'Molloy opened his case again and offered it.
<lb n="070468"/><said who="Lenehan">―<foreign xml:lang="franglais">Thanky vous</foreign>,</said> Lenehan said, helping himself.</p>
<p><lb n="070469"/>The editor came from the inner office, a straw hat awry on his brow.
<lb n="070470"/>He declaimed in song, pointing sternly at professor MacHugh:
<lb n="070471"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―<quote>'Twas rank and fame that tempted thee,
<lb n="070472"/>'Twas empire charmed thy heart.</quote></said></p>
<p><lb n="070473"/>The professor grinned, locking his long lips.
<lb n="070474"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―Eh? You bloody old Roman empire?</said> Myles Crawford said.</p>
<p><lb n="070475"/>He took a cigarette from the open case. Lenehan, lighting it for him
<lb n="070476"/>with quick grace, said:
<lb n="070477"/><said who="Lenehan">―Silence for my brandnew riddle!</said>
<lb n="070478"/><said who="J.J. O'Molloy">―<foreign xml:lang="la">Imperium romanum</foreign>,</said> J. J. O'Molloy said gently. <said who="J.J. O'Molloy">It sounds nobler than
<lb n="070479"/>British or Brixton. The word reminds one somehow of fat in the fire.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070480"/>Myles Crawford blew his first puff violently towards the ceiling.
<lb n="070481"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―That's it,</said> he said. <said who="Myles Crawford">We are the fat. You and I are the fat in the fire. We
<lb n="070482"/>haven't got the chance of a snowball in hell.</said></p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070483"/>THE GRANDEUR THAT WAS ROME</head>
<p><lb n="070484"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―Wait a moment,</said> professor MacHugh said, raising two quiet claws. <said who="professor MacHugh">We
<lb n="070485"/>mustn't be led away by words, by sounds of words. We think of Rome,
<lb n="070486"/>imperial, imperious, imperative.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070487"/>He extended elocutionary arms from frayed stained shirtcuffs,
<lb n="070488"/>pausing:
<lb n="070489"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―What was their civilisation? Vast, I allow: but vile. <foreign xml:lang="la">Cloacae</foreign>: sewers. The
<lb n="070490"/>jews in the wilderness and on the mountaintop said: <said who="jews in the wilderness" rend="italics">It is meet to be here.
<lb n="070491"/>Let us build an altar to Jehovah.</said> The Roman, like the Englishman who
<lb n="070492"/>follows in his footsteps, brought to every new shore on which he set his foot
<lb n="070493"/>(on our shore he never set it) only his cloacal obsession. He gazed about
<lb n="070494"/>him in his toga and he said: <said who="the Roman" rend="italics">It is meet to be here. Let us construct a
<lb n="070495"/>watercloset.</said></said>
<lb n="070496"/><said who="Lenehan">―Which they accordingly did do,</said> Lenehan said. <said who="Lenehan">Our old ancient ancestors,
<lb n="070497"/>as we read in the first chapter of Guinness's, were partial to the running
<lb n="070498"/>stream.</said>
<lb n="070499"/><said who="J.J. O'Molloy">―They were nature's gentlemen,</said> J. J. O'Molloy murmured. <said who="J.J. O'Molloy">But we have
<lb n="070500"/>also Roman law.</said>
<lb n="070501"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―And Pontius Pilate is its prophet,</said> professor MacHugh responded.
<lb n="070502"/><said who="J.J. O'Molloy">―Do you know that story about chief baron Palles?</said> J. J. O'Molloy asked.
<said who="J.J. O'Molloy"><lb n="070503"/>It was at the royal university dinner. Everything was going swimmingly .....</said>
<lb n="070504"/><said who="Lenehan">―First my riddle,</said> Lenehan said. <said who="Lenehan">Are you ready?</said></p>
<p><lb n="070505"/>Mr O'Madden Burke, tall in copious grey of Donegal tweed, came in
<lb n="070506"/>from the hallway. Stephen Dedalus, behind him, uncovered as he entered.
<lb n="070507"/><said who="Lenehan">―<foreign xml:lang="fr">Entrez, mes enfants!</foreign></said> Lenehan cried.
<lb n="070508"/><said who="O'Madden Burke">―I escort a suppliant,</said> Mr O'Madden Burke said melodiously. <said who="O'Madden Burke">Youth led by
<lb n="070509"/>Experience visits Notoriety.</said>
<lb n="070510"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―How do you do?</said> the editor said, holding out a hand. <said who="Myles Crawford">Come in. Your
<lb n="070511"/>governor is just gone.</said></p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070512"/>? ? ?</head>
<p><lb n="070513"/>Lenehan said to all:
<lb n="070514"/><said who="Lenehan">―Silence! What opera resembles a railwayline? Reflect, ponder, excogitate,
<lb n="070515"/>reply.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070516"/>Stephen handed over the typed sheets, pointing to the title and
<lb n="070517"/>signature.
<lb n="070518"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―Who?</said> the editor asked.</p>
<p><lb n="070519"/>Bit torn off.
<lb n="070520"/><said who="Stephen Dedalus">―Mr Garrett Deasy,</said> Stephen said.
<lb n="070521"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―That old pelters,</said> the editor said. <said who="Myles Crawford">Who tore it? Was he short taken?</said></p>
<p rend="inset"><lb n="070522"/><emph>On swift sail flaming
<lb n="070523"/>From storm and south
<lb n="070524"/>He comes, pale vampire,
<lb n="070525"/>Mouth to my mouth.</emph></p>
<p><lb n="070526"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―Good day, Stephen,</said> the professor said, coming to peer over their
<lb n="070527"/>shoulders. <said who="professor MacHugh">Foot and mouth? Are you turned ...?</said></p>
<p><lb n="070528"/>Bullockbefriending bard.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070529"/>SHINDY IN WELLKNOWN RESTAURANT</head>
<p><lb n="070530"/><said who="Stephen Dedalus">―Good day, sir,</said> Stephen answered blushing. <said who="Stephen Dedalus">The letter is not mine. Mr
<lb n="070531"/>Garrett Deasy asked me to ...</said>
<lb n="070532"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―O, I know him,</said> Myles Crawford said, <said who="Myles Crawford">and I knew his wife too. The
<lb n="070533"/>bloodiest old tartar God ever made. By Jesus, she had the foot and mouth
<lb n="070534"/>disease and no mistake! The night she threw the soup in the waiter's face in
<lb n="070535"/>the Star and Garter. Oho!</said></p>
<p><lb n="070536"/>A woman brought sin into the world. For Helen, the runaway wife of
<lb n="070537"/>Menelaus, ten years the Greeks. O'Rourke, prince of Breffni.
<lb n="070538"/><said who="Stephen Dedalus">―Is he a widower?</said> Stephen asked.
<lb n="070539"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―Ay, a grass one,</said> Myles Crawford said, his eye running down the
<lb n="070540"/>typescript. <said who="Myles Crawford">Emperor's horses. Habsburg. An Irishman saved his life on the
<lb n="070541"/>ramparts of Vienna. Don't you forget! Maximilian Karl O'Donnell, graf
<lb n="070542"/>von Tirconnell in Ireland. Sent his heir over to make the king an Austrian
<lb n="070543"/>fieldmarshal now. Going to be trouble there one day. Wild geese. O yes,
<lb n="070544"/>every time. Don't you forget that!</said>
<lb n="070545"/><said who="J.J. O'Molloy">―The moot point is did he forget it,</said> J. J. O'Molloy said quietly, turning a
<lb n="070546"/>horseshoe paperweight. <said who="J.J. O'Molloy">Saving princes is a thankyou job.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070547"/>Professor MacHugh turned on him.
<lb n="070548"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―And if not?</said> he said.
<lb n="070549"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―I'll tell you how it was,</said> Myles Crawford began. <said who="Myles Crawford">A Hungarian it was one
<lb n="070550"/>day ...</said></p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070551"/>LOST CAUSES
<lb n="070552"/>NOBLE MARQUESS MENTIONED</head>
<p><lb n="070553"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―We were always loyal to lost causes,</said> the professor said. <said who="professor MacHugh">Success for us is
<lb n="070554"/>the death of the intellect and of the imagination. We were never loyal to the
<lb n="070555"/>successful. We serve them. I teach the blatant Latin language. I speak the
<lb n="070556"/>tongue of a race the acme of whose mentality is the maxim: time is money.
<lb n="070557"/>Material domination. <foreign xml:lang="la">Domine!</foreign> Lord! Where is the spirituality? Lord Jesus?
<lb n="070558"/>Lord Salisbury? A sofa in a westend club. But the Greek!</said></p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070559"/>KYRIE ELEISON!</head>
<p><lb n="070560"/>A smile of light brightened his darkrimmed eyes, lengthened his long
<lb n="070561"/>lips.
<lb n="070562"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―The Greek!</said> he said again. <said who="professor MacHugh"><foreign xml:lang="grc">Kyrios!</foreign> Shining word! The vowels the Semite
<lb n="070563"/>and the Saxon know not. <foreign xml:lang="grc-Latn">Kyrie!</foreign> The radiance of the intellect. I ought to
<lb n="070564"/>profess Greek, the language of the mind. <foreign xml:lang="grc">Kyrie eleison!</foreign> The closetmaker
<lb n="070565"/>and the cloacamaker will never be lords of our spirit. We are liege subjects
<lb n="070566"/>of the catholic chivalry of Europe that foundered at Trafalgar and of the
<lb n="070567"/>empire of the spirit, not an <foreign xml:lang="la">imperium</foreign>, that went under with the Athenian
<lb n="070568"/>fleets at Aegospotami. Yes, yes. They went under. Pyrrhus, misled by an
<lb n="070569"/>oracle, made a last attempt to retrieve the fortunes of Greece. Loyal to a lost
<lb n="070570"/>cause.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070571"/>He strode away from them towards the window.
<lb n="070572"/><said who="O'Madden Burke">―They went forth to battle,</said> Mr O'Madden Burke said greyly, <said who="O'Madden Burke">but they
<lb n="070573"/>always fell.</said>
<lb n="070574"/><said who="Lenehan">―Boohoo!</said> Lenehan wept with a little noise. <said who="Lenehan">Owing to a brick received in
<lb n="070575"/>the latter half of the <foreign xml:lang="fr">matinée</foreign>. Poor, poor, poor Pyrrhus!</said></p>
<p><lb n="070576"/>He whispered then near Stephen's ear:</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070577"/>LENEHAN'S LIMERICK</head>
<p><lb n="070578"/><said who="Lenehan">―<emph>There's a ponderous pundit MacHugh
<lb n="070579"/>Who wears goggles of ebony hue.
<lb n="070580"/>As he mostly sees double
<lb n="070581"/>To wear them why trouble?
<lb n="070582"/>I can't see the Joe Miller. Can you?</emph></said></p>
<p><lb n="070583"/>In mourning for Sallust, Mulligan says. Whose mother is beastly
<lb n="070584"/>dead.</p>
<p><lb n="070585"/>Myles Crawford crammed the sheets into a sidepocket.
<lb n="070586"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―That'll be all right,</said> he said. <said who="Myles Crawford">I'll read the rest after. That'll be all right.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070587"/>Lenehan extended his hands in protest.
<lb n="070588"/><said who="Lenehan">―But my riddle!</said> he said. <said who="Lenehan">What opera is like a railwayline?</said>
<lb n="070589"/><said who="O'Madden Burke">―Opera?</said> Mr O'Madden Burke's sphinx face reriddled.</p>
<p><lb n="070590"/>Lenehan announced gladly:
<lb n="070591"/><said who="Lenehan">―<title type="opera">The Rose of Castile.</title> See the wheeze? Rows of cast steel. Gee!</said></p>
<p><lb n="070592"/>He poked Mr O'Madden Burke mildly in the spleen. Mr O'Madden
<lb n="070593"/>Burke fell back with grace on his umbrella, feigning a gasp.
<lb n="070594"/><said who="O'Madden Burke">―Help!</said> he sighed. <said who="O'Madden Burke">I feel a strong weakness.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070595"/>Lenehan, rising to tiptoe, fanned his face rapidly with the rustling
<lb n="070596"/>tissues.</p>
<p><lb n="070597"/>The professor, returning by way of the files, swept his hand across
<lb n="070598"/>Stephen's and Mr O'Madden Burke's loose ties.
<lb n="070599"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―Paris, past and present,</said> he said. <said who="professor MacHugh">You look like communards.</said>
<lb n="070600"/><said who="J.J. O'Molloy">―Like fellows who had blown up the Bastile,</said> J. J. O'Molloy said in quiet
<lb n="070601"/>mockery. <said who="J.J. O'Molloy">Or was it you shot the lord lieutenant of Finland between you?
<lb n="070602"/>You look as though you had done the deed. General Bobrikoff.</said>
<lb n="070603"/><said who="Stephen Dedalus">―We were only thinking about it,</said> Stephen said.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070604"/>OMNIUM GATHERUM</head>
<p><lb n="070605"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―All the talents,</said> Myles Crawford said. <said who="Myles Crawford">Law, the classics ...</said>
<lb n="070606"/><said who="Lenehan">―The turf,</said> Lenehan put in.
<lb n="070607"/><said who="unclear">―Literature, the press.</said>
<lb n="070608"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―If Bloom were here,</said> the professor said. <said who="professor MacHugh">The gentle art of advertisement.</said>
<lb n="070609"/><said who="O'Madden Burke">―And Madam Bloom,</said> Mr O'Madden Burke added. <said who="O'Madden Burke">The vocal muse.
<lb n="070610"/>Dublin's prime favourite.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070611"/>Lenehan gave a loud cough.
<lb n="070612"/><said who="Lenehan">―Ahem!</said> he said very softly. <said who="Lenehan">O, for a fresh of breath air! I caught a cold in
<lb n="070613"/>the park. The gate was open.</said></p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070614"/>"YOU CAN DO IT!"</head>
<p><lb n="070615"/>The editor laid a nervous hand on Stephen's shoulder.
<lb n="070616"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―I want you to write something for me,</said> he said. <said who="Myles Crawford">Something with a bite in it.
<lb n="070617"/>You can do it. I see it in your face. <emph>In the lexicon of youth</emph> .....</said></p>
<p><lb n="070618"/>See it in your face. See it in your eye. Lazy idle little schemer.
<lb n="070619"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―Foot and mouth disease!</said> the editor cried in scornful invective. <said who="Myles Crawford">Great
<lb n="070620"/>nationalist meeting in Borris-in-Ossory. All balls! Bulldosing the public!
<lb n="070621"/>Give them something with a bite in it. Put us all into it, damn its soul.
<lb n="070622"/>Father, Son and Holy Ghost and Jakes M'Carthy.</said>
<lb n="070623"/><said who="O'Madden Burke">―We can all supply mental pabulum,</said> Mr O'Madden Burke said.</p>
<p><lb n="070624"/>Stephen raised his eyes to the bold unheeding stare.
<lb n="070625"/><said who="J.J. O'Molloy">―He wants you for the pressgang,</said> J. J. O'Molloy said.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070626"/>THE GREAT GALLAHER</head>
<p><lb n="070627"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―You can do it,</said> Myles Crawford repeated, clenching his hand in emphasis.
<said who="Myles Crawford"><lb n="070628"/>Wait a minute. We'll paralyse Europe as Ignatius Gallaher used to say when
<lb n="070629"/>he was on the shaughraun, doing billiardmarking in the Clarence. Gallaher,
<lb n="070630"/>that was a pressman for you. That was a pen. You know how he made his
<lb n="070631"/>mark? I'll tell you. That was the smartest piece of journalism ever known.
<lb n="070632"/>That was in eightyone, sixth of May, time of the invincibles, murder in the
<lb n="070633"/>Phoenix park, before you were born, I suppose. I'll show you.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070634"/>He pushed past them to the files.
<lb n="070635"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―Look at here,</said> he said turning. <said who="Myles Crawford">The <title type="newspaper">New York World</title> cabled for a special.
<lb n="070636"/>Remember that time?</said></p>
<p><lb n="070637"/>Professor MacHugh nodded.
<lb n="070638"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―<title type="newspaper">New York World</title>,</said> the editor said, excitedly pushing back his straw hat.
<said who="Myles Crawford"><lb n="070639"/>Where it took place. Tim Kelly, or Kavanagh I mean. Joe Brady and the
<lb n="070640"/>rest of them. Where Skin-the-Goat drove the car. Whole route, see?</said>
<lb n="070641"/><said who="O'Madden Burke">―Skin-the-Goat,</said> Mr O'Madden Burke said. <said who="O'Madden Burke">Fitzharris. He has that
<lb n="070642"/>cabman's shelter, they say, down there at Butt bridge. Holohan told me.
<lb n="070643"/>You know Holohan?</said>
<lb n="070644"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―Hop and carry one, is it?</said> Myles Crawford said.
<lb n="070645"/><said who="O'Madden Burke">―And poor Gumley is down there too, so he told me, minding stones for
<lb n="070646"/>the corporation. A night watchman.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070647"/>Stephen turned in surprise.
<lb n="070648"/><said who="Stephen Dedalus">―Gumley?</said> he said. <said who="Stephen Dedalus">You don't say so? A friend of my father's, is it?</said>
<lb n="070649"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―Never mind Gumley,</said> Myles Crawford cried angrily. <said who="Myles Crawford">Let Gumley mind
<lb n="070650"/>the stones, see they don't run away. Look at here. What did Ignatius
<lb n="070651"/>Gallaher do? I'll tell you. Inspiration of genius. Cabled right away. Have
<lb n="070652"/>you <title type="newspaper">Weekly Freeman</title> of 17 March? Right. Have you got that?</said></p>
<p><lb n="070653"/>He flung back pages of the files and stuck his finger on a point.
<lb n="070654"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―Take page four, advertisement for Bransome's coffee, let us say. Have
<lb n="070655"/>you got that? Right.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070656"/>The telephone whirred.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070657"/>A DISTANT VOICE</head>
<p><lb n="070658"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―I'll answer it,</said> the professor said, going.
<lb n="070659"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―B is parkgate. Good.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070660"/>His finger leaped and struck point after point, vibrating.
<lb n="070661"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―T is viceregal lodge. C is where murder took place. K is Knockmaroon
<lb n="070662"/>gate.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070663"/>The loose flesh of his neck shook like a cock's wattles. An illstarched
<lb n="070664"/>dicky jutted up and with a rude gesture he thrust it back into his waistcoat.
<lb n="070665"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―Hello? <title type="newspaper">Evening Telegraph</title> here. Hello? ... Who's there? ... Yes ... Yes ....
<lb n="070666"/>Yes.</said>
<lb n="070667"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―F to P is the route Skin-the-Goat drove the car for an alibi, Inchicore,
<lb n="070668"/>Roundtown, Windy Arbour, Palmerston Park, Ranelagh. F. A. B. P. Got
<lb n="070669"/>that? X is Davy's publichouse in upper Leeson street.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070670"/>The professor came to the inner door.
<lb n="070671"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―Bloom is at the telephone,</said> he said.
<lb n="070672"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―Tell him go to hell,</said> the editor said promptly. <said who="Myles Crawford">X is Davy's publichouse,
<lb n="070673"/>see?</said></p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070674"/>CLEVER, VERY</head>
<p><lb n="070675"/><said who="Lenehan">―Clever,</said> Lenehan said. <said who="Lenehan">Very.</said>
<lb n="070676"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―Gave it to them on a hot plate,</said> Myles Crawford said, <said who="Myles Crawford">the whole bloody
<lb n="070677"/>history.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070678"/>Nightmare from which you will never awake.
<lb n="070679"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―I saw it,</said> the editor said proudly. <said who="Myles Crawford">I was present. Dick Adams, the
<lb n="070680"/>besthearted bloody Corkman the Lord ever put the breath of life in, and
<lb n="070681"/>myself.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070682"/>Lenehan bowed to a shape of air, announcing:
<lb n="070683"/><said who="Lenehan">―Madam, I'm Adam. And Able was I ere I saw Elba.</said>
<lb n="070684"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―History!</said> Myles Crawford cried. <said who="Myles Crawford">The Old Woman of Prince's street was
<lb n="070685"/>there first. There was weeping and gnashing of teeth over that. Out of an
<lb n="070686"/>advertisement. Gregor Grey made the design for it. That gave him the leg
<lb n="070687"/>up. Then Paddy Hooper worked Tay Pay who took him on to the <title type="newspaper">Star</title>.
<lb n="070688"/>Now he's got in with Blumenfeld. That's press. That's talent. Pyatt! He
<lb n="070689"/>was all their daddies!</said>
<lb n="070690"/><said who="Lenehan">―The father of scare journalism,</said> Lenehan confirmed, <said who="Lenehan">and the
<lb n="070691"/>brother-in-law of Chris Callinan.</said>
<lb n="070692"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―Hello? Are you there? Yes, he's here still. Come across yourself.</said>
<lb n="070693"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―Where do you find a pressman like that now, eh?</said> the editor cried.</p>
<p><lb n="070694"/>He flung the pages down.
<lb n="070695"/><said who="Lenehan">―Clamn dever,</said> Lenehan said to Mr O'Madden Burke.
<lb n="070696"/><said who="O'Madden Burke">―Very smart,</said> Mr O'Madden Burke said.</p>
<p><lb n="070697"/>Professor MacHugh came from the inner office.
<lb n="070698"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―Talking about the invincibles,</said> he said, <said who="professor MacHugh">did you see that some hawkers
<lb n="070699"/>were up before the recorder ...</said>
<lb n="070700"/><said who="J.J. O'Molloy">―O yes,</said> J. J. O'Molloy said eagerly. <said who="J.J. O'Molloy">Lady Dudley was walking home
<lb n="070701"/>through the park to see all the trees that were blown down by that cyclone
<lb n="070702"/>last year and thought she'd buy a view of Dublin. And it turned out to be a
<lb n="070703"/>commemoration postcard of Joe Brady or Number One or Skin-the-Goat.
<lb n="070704"/>Right outside the viceregal lodge, imagine!</said>
<lb n="070705"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―They're only in the hook and eye department,</said> Myles Crawford said.
<said who="Myles Crawford"><lb n="070706"/>Psha! Press and the bar! Where have you a man now at the bar like those
<lb n="070707"/>fellows, like Whiteside, like Isaac Butt, like silvertongued O'Hagan. Eh?
<lb n="070708"/>Ah, bloody nonsense. Psha! Only in the halfpenny place.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070709"/>His mouth continued to twitch unspeaking in nervous curls of
<lb n="070710"/>disdain.</p>
<p><lb n="070711"/>Would anyone wish that mouth for her kiss? How do you know?
<lb n="070712"/>Why did you write it then?</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070713"/>RHYMES AND REASONS</head>
<p><lb n="070714"/>Mouth, south. Is the mouth south someway? Or the south a mouth?
<lb n="070715"/>Must be some. South, pout, out, shout, drouth. Rhymes: two men dressed
<lb n="070716"/>the same, looking the same, two by two.</p>
<p rend="inset"><lb n="070717"/>.......... <foreign xml:lang="it">la tua pace</foreign>
<lb n="070718"/>....... <foreign xml:lang="it">che parlar ti piace
<lb n="070719"/>Mentre che il vento, come fa, si tace.</foreign></p>
<p><lb n="070720"/>He saw them three by three, approaching girls, in green, in rose, in
<lb n="070721"/>russet, entwining, <foreign xml:lang="it">per l'aer perso</foreign>, in mauve, in purple, <foreign xml:lang="it">quella pacifica
<lb n="070722"/>oriafiamma</foreign>, gold of oriflamme, <foreign xml:lang="it">di rimirar fè più ardenti</foreign>. But I old men,
<lb n="070723"/>penitent, leadenfooted, underdarkneath the night: mouth south: tomb
<lb n="070724"/>womb.
<lb n="070725"/><said who="O'Madden Burke">―Speak up for yourself,</said> Mr O'Madden Burke said.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070726"/>SUFFICIENT FOR THE DAY ...</head>
<p><lb n="070727"/>J. J. O'Molloy, smiling palely, took up the gage.
<lb n="070728"/><said who="J.J. O'Molloy">―My dear Myles,</said> he said, flinging his cigarette aside, <said who="J.J. O'Molloy">you put a false
<lb n="070729"/>construction on my words. I hold no brief, as at present advised, for the
<lb n="070730"/>third profession <foreign xml:lang="la">qua</foreign> profession but your Cork legs are running away with
<lb n="070731"/>you. Why not bring in Henry Grattan and Flood and Demosthenes and
<lb n="070732"/>Edmund Burke? Ignatius Gallaher we all know and his Chapelizod boss,
<lb n="070733"/>Harmsworth of the farthing press, and his American cousin of the Bowery
<lb n="070734"/>guttersheet not to mention <title type="newspaper">Paddy Kelly's Budget</title>, <title type="newspaper">Pue's Occurrences</title> and our
<lb n="070735"/>watchful friend <title type="newspaper">The Skibbereen Eagle</title>. Why bring in a master of forensic
<lb n="070736"/>eloquence like Whiteside? Sufficient for the day is the newspaper thereof.</said></p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070737"/>LINKS WITH BYGONE DAYS OF YORE</head>
<p><lb n="070738"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―Grattan and Flood wrote for this very paper,</said> the editor cried in his face.
<said who="Myles Crawford"><lb n="070739"/>Irish volunteers. Where are you now? Established 1763. Dr Lucas. Who
<lb n="070740"/>have you now like John Philpot Curran? Psha!</said>
<lb n="070741"/><said who="J.J. O'Molloy">―Well,</said> J. J. O'Molloy said, <said who="J.J. O'Molloy">Bushe K. C., for example.</said>
<lb n="070742"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―Bushe?</said> the editor said. <said who="Myles Crawford">Well, yes: Bushe, yes. He has a strain of it in his
<lb n="070743"/>blood. Kendal Bushe or I mean Seymour Bushe.</said>
<lb n="070744"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―He would have been on the bench long ago,</said> the professor said, <said who="professor MacHugh">only
<lb n="070745"/>for .... But no matter.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070746"/>J. J. O'Molloy turned to Stephen and said quietly and slowly:
<lb n="070747"/><said who="J.J. O'Molloy">―One of the most polished periods I think I ever listened to in my life fell
<lb n="070748"/>from the lips of Seymour Bushe. It was in that case of fratricide, the Childs
<lb n="070749"/>murder case. Bushe defended him.</said></p>
<p rend="inset"><lb n="070750"/><quote>And in the porches of mine ear did pour.</quote></p>
<p><lb n="070751"/>By the way how did he find that out? He died in his sleep. Or the
<lb n="070752"/>other story, beast with two backs?
<lb n="070753"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―What was that?</said> the professor asked.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070754"/>ITALIA, MAGISTRA ARTIUM</head>
<p><lb n="070755"/><said who="J.J. O'Molloy">―He spoke on the law of evidence,</said> J. J. O'Molloy said, <said who="J.J. O'Molloy">of Roman justice as
<lb n="070756"/>contrasted with the earlier Mosaic code, the <foreign xml:lang="la">lex talionis</foreign>. And he cited the
<lb n="070757"/>Moses of Michelangelo in the vatican.</said>
<lb n="070758"/><said who="unclear: professor MacHugh?">―Ha.</said>
<lb n="070759"/><said who="Lenehan">―A few wellchosen words,</said> Lenehan prefaced. <said who="Lenehan">Silence!</said></p>
<p><lb n="070760"/>Pause. J. J. O'Molloy took out his cigarettecase.</p>
<p><lb n="070761"/>False lull. Something quite ordinary.</p>
<p><lb n="070762"/>Messenger took out his matchbox thoughtfully and lit his cigar.</p>
<p><lb n="070763"/>I have often thought since on looking back over that strange time that
<lb n="070764"/>it was that small act, trivial in itself, that striking of that match, that
<lb n="070765"/>determined the whole aftercourse of both our lives.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070766"/>A POLISHED PERIOD</head>
<p><lb n="070767"/>J. J. O'Molloy resumed, moulding his words:
<lb n="070768"/><said who="J.J. O'Molloy">―He said of it: <said who="Seymour Bushe" rend="italics">that stony effigy in frozen music, horned and terrible, of the
<lb n="070769"/>human form divine, that eternal symbol of wisdom and of prophecy which,
<lb n="070770"/>if aught that the imagination or the hand of sculptor has wrought in marble
<lb n="070771"/>of soultransfigured and of soultransfiguring deserves to live, deserves to live.</said></said></p>
<p><lb n="070772"/>His slim hand with a wave graced echo and fall.
<lb n="070773"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―Fine!</said> Myles Crawford said at once.
<lb n="070774"/><said who="O'Madden Burke">―The divine afflatus,</said> Mr O'Madden Burke said.
<lb n="070775"/><said who="J.J. O'Molloy">―You like it?</said> J. J. O'Molloy asked Stephen.</p>
<p><lb n="070776"/>Stephen, his blood wooed by grace of language and gesture, blushed.
<lb n="070777"/>He took a cigarette from the case. J. J. O'Molloy offered his case to Myles
<lb n="070778"/>Crawford. Lenehan lit their cigarettes as before and took his trophy,
<lb n="070779"/>saying:
<lb n="070780"/><said who="Lenehan">―Muchibus thankibus.</said></p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070781"/>A MAN OF HIGH MORALE</head>
<p><lb n="070782"/><said who="J.J. O'Molloy">―Professor Magennis was speaking to me about you,</said> J. J. O'Molloy said to
<lb n="070783"/>Stephen. <said who="J.J. O'Molloy">What do you think really of that hermetic crowd, the opal hush
<lb n="070784"/>poets: A. E. the mastermystic? That Blavatsky woman started it. She was a
<lb n="070785"/>nice old bag of tricks. A. E. has been telling some yankee interviewer that
<lb n="070786"/>you came to him in the small hours of the morning to ask him about planes
<lb n="070787"/>of consciousness. Magennis thinks you must have been pulling A. E.'s leg.
<lb n="070788"/>He is a man of the very highest morale, Magennis.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070789"/>Speaking about me. What did he say? What did he say? What did he
<lb n="070790"/>say about me? Don't ask.
<lb n="070791"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―No, thanks,</said> professor MacHugh said, waving the cigarettecase aside.
<said who="professor MacHugh"><lb n="070792"/>Wait a moment. Let me say one thing. The finest display of oratory I ever
<lb n="070793"/>heard was a speech made by John F Taylor at the college historical society.
<lb n="070794"/>Mr Justice Fitzgibbon, the present lord justice of appeal, had spoken and
<lb n="070795"/>the paper under debate was an essay (new for those days), advocating the
<lb n="070796"/>revival of the Irish tongue.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070797"/>He turned towards Myles Crawford and said:
<lb n="070798"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―You know Gerald Fitzgibbon. Then you can imagine the style of his
<lb n="070799"/>discourse.</said>
<lb n="070800"/><said who="J.J. O'Molloy">―He is sitting with Tim Healy,</said> J. J. O'Molloy said, <said who="J.J. O'Molloy">rumour has it, on the
<lb n="070801"/>Trinity college estates commission.</said>
<lb n="070802"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―He is sitting with a sweet thing,</said> Myles Crawford said, <said who="Myles Crawford">in a child's frock.
<lb n="070803"/>Go on. Well?</said>
<lb n="070804"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―It was the speech, mark you,</said> the professor said, <said who="professor MacHugh">of a finished orator, full
<lb n="070805"/>of courteous haughtiness and pouring in chastened diction I will not say the
<lb n="070806"/>vials of his wrath but pouring the proud man's contumely upon the new
<lb n="070807"/>movement. It was then a new movement. We were weak, therefore
<lb n="070808"/>worthless.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070809"/>He closed his long thin lips an instant but, eager to be on, raised an
<lb n="070810"/>outspanned hand to his spectacles and, with trembling thumb and
<lb n="070811"/>ringfinger touching lightly the black rims, steadied them to a new focus.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070812"/>IMPROMPTU</head>
<p><lb n="070813"/>In ferial tone he addressed J. J. O'Molloy:
<lb n="070814"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―Taylor had come there, you must know, from a sickbed. That he had
<lb n="070815"/>prepared his speech I do not believe for there was not even one
<lb n="070816"/>shorthandwriter in the hall. His dark lean face had a growth of shaggy
<lb n="070817"/>beard round it. He wore a loose white silk neckcloth and altogether he
<lb n="070818"/>looked (though he was not) a dying man.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070819"/>His gaze turned at once but slowly from J. J. O'Molloy's towards
<lb n="070820"/>Stephen's face and then bent at once to the ground, seeking. His unglazed
<lb n="070821"/>linen collar appeared behind his bent head, soiled by his withering hair. Still
<lb n="070822"/>seeking, he said:
<lb n="070823"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―When Fitzgibbon's speech had ended John F Taylor rose to reply. Briefly,
<lb n="070824"/>as well as I can bring them to mind, his words were these.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070825"/>He raised his head firmly. His eyes bethought themselves once more.
<lb n="070826"/>Witless shellfish swam in the gross lenses to and fro, seeking outlet.</p>
<p><lb n="070827"/>He began:
<lb n="070828"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―<said who="John F Taylor" rend="italics">Mr chairman, ladies and gentlemen: Great was my admiration in listening
<lb n="070829"/>to the remarks addressed to the youth of Ireland a moment since by my
<lb n="070830"/>learned friend. It seemed to me that I had been transported into a country far
<lb n="070831"/>away from this country, into an age remote from this age, that I stood in
<lb n="070832"/>ancient Egypt and that I was listening to the speech of some highpriest of that
<lb n="070833"/>land addressed to the youthful Moses.</said></said></p>
<p><lb n="070834"/>His listeners held their cigarettes poised to hear, their smokes
<lb n="070835"/>ascending in frail stalks that flowered with his speech. <quote>And let our crooked
<lb n="070836"/>smokes.</quote> Noble words coming. Look out. Could you try your hand at it
<lb n="070837"/>yourself?
<lb n="070838"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―<said who="John F Taylor" rend="italics">And it seemed to me that I heard the voice of that Egyptian highpriest
<lb n="070839"/>raised in a tone of like haughtiness and like pride. I heard his words and their
<lb n="070840"/>meaning was revealed to me.</said></said></p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070841"/>FROM THE FATHERS</head>
<p><lb n="070842"/>It was revealed to me that those things are good which yet are
<lb n="070843"/>corrupted which neither if they were supremely good nor unless they were
<lb n="070844"/>good could be corrupted. Ah, curse you! That's saint Augustine.
<lb n="070845"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―<said who="John F Taylor" rend="italics">Why will you jews not accept our culture, our religion and our language?
<lb n="070846"/>You are a tribe of nomad herdsmen: we are a mighty people. You have no
<lb n="070847"/>cities nor no wealth: our cities are hives of humanity and our galleys, trireme
<lb n="070848"/>and quadrireme, laden with all manner merchandise furrow the waters of the
<lb n="070849"/>known globe. You have but emerged from primitive conditions: we have a
<lb n="070850"/>literature, a priesthood, an agelong history and a polity.</said></said></p>
<p><lb n="070851"/>Nile.</p>
<p><lb n="070852"/>Child, man, effigy.</p>
<p><lb n="070853"/>By the Nilebank the babemaries kneel, cradle of bulrushes: a man
<lb n="070854"/>supple in combat: stonehorned, stonebearded, heart of stone.
<lb n="070855"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―<said who="John F Taylor" rend="italics">You pray to a local and obscure idol: our temples, majestic and mysterious,
<lb n="070856"/>are the abodes of Isis and Osiris, of Horus and Ammon Ra. Yours serfdom,
<lb n="070857"/>awe and humbleness: ours thunder and the seas. Israel is weak and few are
<lb n="070858"/>her children: Egypt is an host and terrible are her arms. Vagrants and
<lb n="070859"/>daylabourers are you called: the world trembles at our name.</said></said></p>
<p><lb n="070860"/>A dumb belch of hunger cleft his speech. He lifted his voice above it
<lb n="070861"/>boldly:
<lb n="070862"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―<said who="John F Taylor" rend="italics">But, ladies and gentlemen, had the youthful Moses listened to and accepted
<lb n="070863"/>that view of life, had he bowed his head and bowed his will and bowed his
<lb n="070864"/>spirit before that arrogant admonition he would never have brought the
<lb n="070865"/>chosen people out of their house of bondage, nor followed the pillar of the
<lb n="070866"/>cloud by day. He would never have spoken with the Eternal amid lightnings
<lb n="070867"/>on Sinai's mountaintop nor ever have come down with the light of
<lb n="070868"/>inspiration shining in his countenance and bearing in his arms the tables of
<lb n="070869"/>the law, graven in the language of the outlaw.</said></said></p>
<p><lb n="070870"/>He ceased and looked at them, enjoying a silence.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070871"/>OMINOUS – FOR HIM!</head>
<p><lb n="070872"/>J. J. O'Molloy said not without regret:
<lb n="070873"/><said who="J.J. O'Molloy">―And yet he died without having entered the land of promise.</said>
<lb n="070874"/><said who="Lenehan">―A sudden-at-the-moment-though-from-lingering-illness-often-
<lb n="070875"/>expectorated-demise,</said> Lenehan added. <said who="Lenehan">And with a great future
<lb n="070876"/>behind him.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070877"/>The troop of bare feet was heard rushing along the hallway and
<lb n="070878"/>pattering up the staircase.
<lb n="070879"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―That is oratory,</said> the professor said uncontradicted.</p>
<p><lb n="070880"/>Gone with the wind. Hosts at Mullaghmast and Tara of the kings.
<lb n="070881"/>Miles of ears of porches. The tribune's words, howled and scattered to the
<lb n="070882"/>four winds. A people sheltered within his voice. Dead noise. Akasic records
<lb n="070883"/>of all that ever anywhere wherever was. Love and laud him: me no more.</p>
<p><lb n="070884"/>I have money.
<lb n="070885"/><said who="Stephen Dedalus">―Gentlemen,</said> Stephen said. <said who="Stephen Dedalus">As the next motion on the agenda paper may I
<lb n="070886"/>suggest that the house do now adjourn?</said>
<lb n="070887"/><said who="O'Madden Burke">―You take my breath away. It is not perchance a French compliment?</said> Mr
<lb n="070888"/>O'Madden Burke asked. <said who="O'Madden Burke">'Tis the hour, methinks, when the winejug,
<lb n="070889"/>metaphorically speaking, is most grateful in Ye ancient hostelry.</said>
<lb n="070890"/><said who="Lenehan">―That it be and hereby is resolutely resolved. All that are in favour say ay,</said>
<lb n="070891"/>Lenehan announced. <said who="Lenehan">The contrary no. I declare it carried. To which
<lb n="070892"/>particular boosingshed ...? My casting vote is: Mooney's!</said></p>
<p><lb n="070893"/>He led the way, admonishing:
<lb n="070894"/><said who="Lenehan">―We will sternly refuse to partake of strong waters, will we not? Yes, we
<lb n="070895"/>will not. By no manner of means.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070896"/>Mr O'Madden Burke, following close, said with an ally's lunge of his
<lb n="070897"/>umbrella:
<lb n="070898"/><said who="O'Madden Burke">―Lay on, Macduff!</said>
<lb n="070899"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―Chip of the old block!</said> the editor cried, clapping Stephen on the shoulder.
<said who="Myles Crawford"><lb n="070900"/>Let us go. Where are those blasted keys?</said></p>
<p><lb n="070901"/>He fumbled in his pocket pulling out the crushed typesheets.
<lb n="070902"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―Foot and mouth. I know. That'll be all right. That'll go in. Where are
<lb n="070903"/>they? That's all right.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070904"/>He thrust the sheets back and went into the inner office.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070905"/>LET US HOPE</head>
<p><lb n="070906"/>J. J. O'Molloy, about to follow him in, said quietly to Stephen:
<lb n="070907"/><said who="J.J. O'Molloy">―I hope you will live to see it published. Myles, one moment.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070908"/>He went into the inner office, closing the door behind him.
<lb n="070909"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―Come along, Stephen,</said> the professor said. <said who="professor MacHugh">That is fine, isn't it? It has the
<lb n="070910"/>prophetic vision. <foreign xml:lang="la">Fuit Ilium!</foreign> The sack of windy Troy. Kingdoms of this
<lb n="070911"/>world. The masters of the Mediterranean are fellaheen today.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070912"/>The first newsboy came pattering down the stairs at their heels and
<lb n="070913"/>rushed out into the street, yelling:
<lb n="070914"/><said who="newsboy">―Racing special!</said></p>
<p><lb n="070915"/>Dublin. I have much, much to learn.</p>
<p><lb n="070916"/>They turned to the left along Abbey street.
<lb n="070917"/><said who="Stephen Dedalus">―I have a vision too,</said> Stephen said.
<lb n="070918"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―Yes?</said> the professor said, skipping to get into step. <said who="professor MacHugh">Crawford will follow.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070919"/>Another newsboy shot past them, yelling as he ran:
<lb n="070920"/><said who="another newsboy">―Racing special!</said></p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070921"/>DEAR DIRTY DUBLIN</head>
<p><lb n="070922"/>Dubliners.
<lb n="070923"/><said who="Stephen Dedalus">―Two Dublin vestals,</said> Stephen said, <said who="Stephen Dedalus">elderly and pious, have lived fifty and
<lb n="070924"/>fiftythree years in Fumbally's lane.</said>
<lb n="070925"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―Where is that?</said> the professor asked.
<lb n="070926"/><said who="Stephen Dedalus">―Off Blackpitts,</said> Stephen said.</p>
<p><lb n="070927"/>Damp night reeking of hungry dough. Against the wall. Face
<lb n="070928"/>glistering tallow under her fustian shawl. Frantic hearts. Akasic records.
<lb n="070929"/>Quicker, darlint!</p>
<p><lb n="070930"/>On now. Dare it. Let there be life.
<lb n="070931"/><said who="Stephen Dedalus">―They want to see the views of Dublin from the top of Nelson's pillar.
<lb n="070932"/>They save up three and tenpence in a red tin letterbox moneybox. They
<lb n="070933"/>shake out the threepenny bits and sixpences and coax out the pennies with
<lb n="070934"/>the blade of a knife. Two and three in silver and one and seven in coppers.
<lb n="070935"/>They put on their bonnets and best clothes and take their umbrellas for fear
<lb n="070936"/>it may come on to rain.</said>
<lb n="070937"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―Wise virgins,</said> professor MacHugh said.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070938"/>LIFE ON THE RAW</head>
<p><lb n="070939"/><said who="Stephen Dedalus">―They buy one and fourpenceworth of brawn and four slices of panloaf at
<lb n="070940"/>the north city diningrooms in Marlborough street from Miss Kate Collins,
<lb n="070941"/>proprietress. They purchase four and twenty ripe plums from a girl at the
<lb n="070942"/>foot of Nelson's pillar to take off the thirst of the brawn. They give two
<lb n="070943"/>threepenny bits to the gentleman at the turnstile and begin to waddle slowly
<lb n="070944"/>up the winding staircase, grunting, encouraging each other, afraid of the
<lb n="070945"/>dark, panting, one asking the other have you the brawn, praising God and
<lb n="070946"/>the Blessed Virgin, threatening to come down, peeping at the airslits. Glory
<lb n="070947"/>be to God. They had no idea it was that high.
<lb n="070948"/>Their names are Anne Kearns and Florence MacCabe. Anne Kearns
<lb n="070949"/>has the lumbago for which she rubs on Lourdes water, given her by a lady
<lb n="070950"/>who got a bottleful from a passionist father. Florence MacCabe takes a
<lb n="070951"/>crubeen and a bottle of double X for supper every Saturday.</said>
<lb n="070952"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―Antithesis,</said> the professor said nodding twice. <said who="professor MacHugh">Vestal virgins. I can see
<lb n="070953"/>them. What's keeping our friend?</said></p>
<p><lb n="070954"/>He turned.</p>
<p><lb n="070955"/>A bevy of scampering newsboys rushed down the steps, scattering in
<lb n="070956"/>all directions, yelling, their white papers fluttering. Hard after them Myles
<lb n="070957"/>Crawford appeared on the steps, his hat aureoling his scarlet face, talking
<lb n="070958"/>with J. J. O'Molloy.
<lb n="070959"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―Come along,</said> the professor cried, waving his arm.</p>
<p><lb n="070960"/>He set off again to walk by Stephen's side.
<lb n="070961"/><said who="professor MacHugh">―Yes,</said> he said. <said who="professor MacHugh">I see them.</said></p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070962"/>RETURN OF BLOOM</head>
<p><lb n="070963"/>Mr Bloom, breathless, caught in a whirl of wild newsboys near the
<lb n="070964"/>offices of the <title type="newspaper">Irish Catholic</title> and <title type="newspaper">Dublin Penny Journal</title>, called:
<lb n="070965"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―Mr Crawford! A moment!</said>
<lb n="070966"/><said who="wild newsboys">―<title type="newspaper">Telegraph</title>! Racing special!</said>
<lb n="070967"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―What is it?</said> Myles Crawford said, falling back a pace.</p>
<p><lb n="070968"/>A newsboy cried in Mr Bloom's face:
<lb n="070969"/><said who="a newboy">―Terrible tragedy in Rathmines! A child bit by a bellows!</said></p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070970"/>INTERVIEW WITH THE EDITOR</head>
<p><lb n="070971"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―Just this ad,</said> Mr Bloom said, pushing through towards the steps, puffing,
<lb n="070972"/>and taking the cutting from his pocket. <said who="Leopold Bloom">I spoke with Mr Keyes just now.
<lb n="070973"/>He'll give a renewal for two months, he says. After he'll see. But he wants a
<lb n="070974"/>par to call attention in the <title type="newspaper">Telegraph</title> too, the Saturday pink. And he wants
<lb n="070975"/>it copied if it's not too late I told councillor Nannetti from the <title type="newspaper">Kilkenny
<lb n="070976"/>People</title>. I can have access to it in the national library. House of keys, don't
<lb n="070977"/>you see? His name is Keyes. It's a play on the name. But he practically
<lb n="070978"/>promised he'd give the renewal. But he wants just a little puff. What will I
<lb n="070979"/>tell him, Mr Crawford?</said></p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070980"/>K. M. A.</head>
<p><lb n="070981"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―Will you tell him he can kiss my arse?</said> Myles Crawford said throwing out
<lb n="070982"/>his arm for emphasis. <said who="Myles Crawford">Tell him that straight from the stable.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070983"/>A bit nervy. Look out for squalls. All off for a drink. Arm in arm.
<lb n="070984"/>Lenehan's yachting cap on the cadge beyond. Usual blarney. Wonder is
<lb n="070985"/>that young Dedalus the moving spirit. Has a good pair of boots on him
<lb n="070986"/>today. Last time I saw him he had his heels on view. Been walking in muck
<lb n="070987"/>somewhere. Careless chap. What was he doing in Irishtown?
<lb n="070988"/><said who="Leopold Bloom">―Well,</said> Mr Bloom said, his eyes returning, <said who="Leopold Bloom">if I can get the design I suppose
<lb n="070989"/>it's worth a short par. He'd give the ad, I think. I'll tell him ...</said></p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070990"/>K. M. R. I. A.</head>
<p><lb n="070991"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―He can kiss my royal Irish arse,</said> Myles Crawford cried loudly over his
<lb n="070992"/>shoulder. <said who="Myles Crawford">Any time he likes, tell him.</said></p>
<p><lb n="070993"/>While Mr Bloom stood weighing the point and about to smile he
<lb n="070994"/>strode on jerkily.</p></div>
<div><head><lb n="070995"/>RAISING THE WIND</head>
<p><lb n="070996"/><said who="Myles Crawford">―<foreign xml:lang="la">Nulla bona</foreign>, Jack,</said> he said, raising his hand to his chin. <said who="Myles Crawford">I'm up to here.
<lb n="070997"/>I've been through the hoop myself. I was looking for a fellow to back a bill
<lb n="070998"/>for me no later than last week. Sorry, Jack. You must take the will for the
<lb n="070999"/>deed. With a heart and a half if I could raise the wind anyhow.</said></p>