No More Learning

Letter? No. Can't read. Better go.
Better. I'm tired to move. Page of an old copybook. All those holes and
pebbles. Who could count them? Never know what you find. Bottle with
story of a treasure in it, thrown from a wreck. Parcels post. Children
always want to throw things in the sea. Trust? Bread cast on the waters.
What's this? Bit of stick.

O! Exhausted that female has me. Not so young now. Will she come here
tomorrow? Wait for her somewhere for ever. Must come back. Murderers do.
Will I?

Mr Bloom with his stick gently vexed the thick sand at his foot. Write a
message for her. Might remain. What?

I.

Some flatfoot tramp on it in the morning. Useless. Washed away. Tide
comes here. Saw a pool near her foot. Bend, see my face there, dark
mirror, breathe on it, stirs. All these rocks with lines and scars and
letters. O, those transparent! Besides they don't know. What is the
meaning of that other world. I called you naughty boy because I do not
like.

AM. A.

No room. Let it go.

Mr Bloom effaced the letters with his slow boot. Hopeless thing sand.
Nothing grows in it. All fades. No fear of big vessels coming up here.
Except Guinness's barges. Round the Kish in eighty days. Done half by
design.

He flung his wooden pen away. The stick fell in silted sand, stuck. Now
if you were trying to do that for a week on end you couldn't. Chance.
We'll never meet again. But it was lovely. Goodbye, dear. Thanks. Made
me feel so young.

Short snooze now if I had. Must be near nine. Liverpool boat long gone. .
Not even the smoke. And she can do the other. Did too. And Belfast. I
won't go. Race there, race back to Ennis. Let him. Just close my eyes
a moment. Won't sleep, though. Half dream. It never comes the same. Bat
again. No harm in him. Just a few.

O sweety all your little girlwhite up I saw dirty bracegirdle made me do
love sticky we two naughty Grace darling she him half past the bed met
him pike hoses frillies for Raoul de perfume your wife black hair heave
under embon _senorita_ young eyes Mulvey plump bubs me breadvan Winkle
red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return tail end
Agendath swoony lovey showed me her next year in drawers return next in
her next her next.

A bat flew. Here. There. Here. Far in the grey a bell chimed. Mr Bloom
with open mouth, his left boot sanded sideways, leaned, breathed. Just
for a few

_Cuckoo
Cuckoo
Cuckoo. _

The clock on the mantelpiece in the priest's house cooed where Canon
O'Hanlon and Father Conroy and the reverend John Hughes S. J. were
taking tea and sodabread and butter and fried mutton chops with catsup
and talking about

_Cuckoo
Cuckoo
Cuckoo. _

Because it was a little canarybird that came out of its little house
to tell the time that Gerty MacDowell noticed the time she was there
because she was as quick as anything about a thing like that, was Gerty
MacDowell, and she noticed at once that that foreign gentleman that was
sitting on the rocks looking was

_Cuckoo
Cuckoo
Cuckoo. _


Deshil Holles Eamus. Deshil Holles Eamus. Deshil Holles Eamus.

Send us bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit. Send
us bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit. Send us
bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit.

Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa!

Universally that person's acumen is esteemed very little perceptive
concerning whatsoever matters are being held as most profitably by
mortals with sapience endowed to be studied who is ignorant of that
which the most in doctrine erudite and certainly by reason of that in
them high mind's ornament deserving of veneration constantly maintain
when by general consent they affirm that other circumstances being
equal by no exterior splendour is the prosperity of a nation more
efficaciously asserted than by the measure of how far forward may
have progressed the tribute of its solicitude for that proliferent
continuance which of evils the original if it be absent when fortunately
present constitutes the certain sign of omnipotent nature's incorrupted
benefaction. For who is there who anything of some significance has
apprehended but is conscious that that exterior splendour may be the
surface of a downwardtending lutulent reality or on the contrary anyone
so is there unilluminated as not to perceive that as no nature's boon
can contend against the bounty of increase so it behoves every most just
citizen to become the exhortator and admonisher of his semblables and
to tremble lest what had in the past been by the nation excellently
commenced might be in the future not with similar excellence
accomplished if an inverecund habit shall have gradually traduced
the honourable by ancestors transmitted customs to that thither of
profundity that that one was audacious excessively who would have the
hardihood to rise affirming that no more odious offence can for anyone
be than to oblivious neglect to consign that evangel simultaneously
command and promise which on all mortals with prophecy of abundance
or with diminution's menace that exalted of reiteratedly procreating
function ever irrevocably enjoined?

It is not why therefore we shall wonder if, as the best historians
relate, among the Celts, who nothing that was not in its nature
admirable admired, the art of medicine shall have been highly honoured.
Not to speak of hostels, leperyards, sweating chambers, plaguegraves,
their greatest doctors, the O'Shiels, the O'Hickeys, the O'Lees,
have sedulously set down the divers methods by which the sick and the
relapsed found again health whether the malady had been the trembling
withering or loose boyconnell flux. Certainly in every public work which
in it anything of gravity contains preparation should be with importance
commensurate and therefore a plan was by them adopted (whether by having
preconsidered or as the maturation of experience it is difficult in
being said which the discrepant opinions of subsequent inquirers are not
up to the present congrued to render manifest) whereby maternity was so
far from all accident possibility removed that whatever care the patient
in that all hardest of woman hour chiefly required and not solely
for the copiously opulent but also for her who not being sufficiently
moneyed scarcely and often not even scarcely could subsist valiantly and
for an inconsiderable emolument was provided.

To her nothing already then and thenceforward was anyway able to be
molestful for this chiefly felt all citizens except with proliferent
mothers prosperity at all not to can be and as they had received
eternity gods mortals generation to befit them her beholding, when the
case was so hoving itself, parturient in vehicle thereward carrying
desire immense among all one another was impelling on of her to be
received into that domicile. O thing of prudent nation not merely in
being seen but also even in being related worthy of being praised that
they her by anticipation went seeing mother, that she by them suddenly
to be about to be cherished had been begun she felt!

Before born bliss babe had. Within womb won he worship. Whatever in that
one case done commodiously done was. A couch by midwives attended with
wholesome food reposeful, cleanest swaddles as though forthbringing were
now done and by wise foresight set: but to this no less of what drugs
there is need and surgical implements which are pertaining to her
case not omitting aspect of all very distracting spectacles in various
latitudes by our terrestrial orb offered together with images, divine
and human, the cogitation of which by sejunct females is to tumescence
conducive or eases issue in the high sunbright wellbuilt fair home of
mothers when, ostensibly far gone and reproductitive, it is come by her
thereto to lie in, her term up.

Some man that wayfaring was stood by housedoor at night's oncoming. Of
Israel's folk was that man that on earth wandering far had fared. Stark
ruth of man his errand that him lone led till that house.

Of that house A. Horne is lord. Seventy beds keeps he there teeming
mothers are wont that they lie for to thole and bring forth bairns hale
so God's angel to Mary quoth. Watchers tway there walk, white sisters
in ward sleepless. Smarts they still, sickness soothing: in twelve moons
thrice an hundred. Truest bedthanes they twain are, for Horne holding
wariest ward.

In ward wary the watcher hearing come that man mildhearted eft rising
with swire ywimpled to him her gate wide undid. Lo, levin leaping
lightens in eyeblink Ireland's westward welkin. Full she drad that
God the Wreaker all mankind would fordo with water for his evil sins.
Christ's rood made she on breastbone and him drew that he would rathe
infare under her thatch. That man her will wotting worthful went in
Horne's house.

Loth to irk in Horne's hall hat holding the seeker stood. On her stow he
ere was living with dear wife and lovesome daughter that then over land
and seafloor nine years had long outwandered. Once her in townhithe
meeting he to her bow had not doffed. Her to forgive now he craved with
good ground of her allowed that that of him swiftseen face, hers, so
young then had looked. Light swift her eyes kindled, bloom of blushes
his word winning.

As her eyes then ongot his weeds swart therefor sorrow she feared. Glad
after she was that ere adread was. Her he asked if O'Hare Doctor tidings
sent from far coast and she with grameful sigh him answered that O'Hare
Doctor in heaven was. Sad was the man that word to hear that him so
heavied in bowels ruthful. All she there told him, ruing death for
friend so young, algate sore unwilling God's rightwiseness to withsay.
She said that he had a fair sweet death through God His goodness with
masspriest to be shriven, holy housel and sick men's oil to his limbs.
The man then right earnest asked the nun of which death the dead man was
died and the nun answered him and said that he was died in Mona Island
through bellycrab three year agone come Childermas and she prayed to God
the Allruthful to have his dear soul in his undeathliness. He heard her
sad words, in held hat sad staring. So stood they there both awhile in
wanhope sorrowing one with other.

Therefore, everyman, look to that last end that is thy death and the
dust that gripeth on every man that is born of woman for as he came
naked forth from his mother's womb so naked shall he wend him at the
last for to go as he came.

The man that was come in to the house then spoke to the nursingwoman and
he asked her how it fared with the woman that lay there in childbed.
The nursingwoman answered him and said that that woman was in throes
now full three days and that it would be a hard birth unneth to bear
but that now in a little it would be. She said thereto that she had
seen many births of women but never was none so hard as was that woman's
birth. Then she set it all forth to him for because she knew the man
that time was had lived nigh that house. The man hearkened to her words
for he felt with wonder women's woe in the travail that they have of
motherhood and he wondered to look on her face that was a fair face for
any man to see but yet was she left after long years a handmaid. Nine
twelve bloodflows chiding her childless.

And whiles they spake the door of the castle was opened and there nighed
them a mickle noise as of many that sat there at meat. And there came
against the place as they stood a young learningknight yclept Dixon. And
the traveller Leopold was couth to him sithen it had happed that they
had had ado each with other in the house of misericord where this
learningknight lay by cause the traveller Leopold came there to be
healed for he was sore wounded in his breast by a spear wherewith a
horrible and dreadful dragon was smitten him for which he did do make
a salve of volatile salt and chrism as much as he might suffice. And he
said now that he should go in to that castle for to make merry with
them that were there. And the traveller Leopold said that he should go
otherwhither for he was a man of cautels and a subtile. Also the lady
was of his avis and repreved the learningknight though she trowed well
that the traveller had said thing that was false for his subtility. But
the learningknight would not hear say nay nor do her mandement ne have
him in aught contrarious to his list and he said how it was a marvellous
castle. And the traveller Leopold went into the castle for to rest him
for a space being sore of limb after many marches environing in divers
lands and sometime venery.

And in the castle was set a board that was of the birchwood of Finlandy
and it was upheld by four dwarfmen of that country but they durst not
move more for enchantment. And on this board were frightful swords and
knives that are made in a great cavern by swinking demons out of white
flames that they fix then in the horns of buffalos and stags that there
abound marvellously. And there were vessels that are wrought by magic of
Mahound out of seasand and the air by a warlock with his breath that he
blases in to them like to bubbles. And full fair cheer and rich was on
the board that no wight could devise a fuller ne richer. And there was
a vat of silver that was moved by craft to open in the which lay strange
fishes withouten heads though misbelieving men nie that this be possible
thing without they see it natheless they are so. And these fishes lie
in an oily water brought there from Portugal land because of the fatness
that therein is like to the juices of the olivepress. And also it was
a marvel to see in that castle how by magic they make a compost out of
fecund wheatkidneys out of Chaldee that by aid of certain angry spirits
that they do in to it swells up wondrously like to a vast mountain. And
they teach the serpents there to entwine themselves up on long sticks
out of the ground and of the scales of these serpents they brew out a
brewage like to mead.

And the learning knight let pour for childe Leopold a draught and halp
thereto the while all they that were there drank every each. And childe
Leopold did up his beaver for to pleasure him and took apertly somewhat
in amity for he never drank no manner of mead which he then put by and
anon full privily he voided the more part in his neighbour glass and
his neighbour nist not of this wile. And he sat down in that castle with
them for to rest him there awhile. Thanked be Almighty God.

This meanwhile this good sister stood by the door and begged them at the
reverence of Jesu our alther liege Lord to leave their wassailing for
there was above one quick with child, a gentle dame, whose time hied
fast. Sir Leopold heard on the upfloor cry on high and he wondered what
cry that it was whether of child or woman and I marvel, said he, that it
be not come or now. Meseems it dureth overlong. And he was ware and saw
a franklin that hight Lenehan on that side the table that was older than
any of the tother and for that they both were knights virtuous in the
one emprise and eke by cause that he was elder he spoke to him full
gently. But, said he, or it be long too she will bring forth by God His
bounty and have joy of her childing for she hath waited marvellous long.
And the franklin that had drunken said, Expecting each moment to be her
next. Also he took the cup that stood tofore him for him needed never
none asking nor desiring of him to drink and, Now drink, said he, fully
delectably, and he quaffed as far as he might to their both's health for
he was a passing good man of his lustiness. And sir Leopold that was the
goodliest guest that ever sat in scholars' hall and that was the meekest
man and the kindest that ever laid husbandly hand under hen and that was
the very truest knight of the world one that ever did minion service
to lady gentle pledged him courtly in the cup. Woman's woe with wonder
pondering.

Now let us speak of that fellowship that was there to the intent to be
drunken an they might. There was a sort of scholars along either side
the board, that is to wit, Dixon yclept junior of saint Mary Merciable's
with other his fellows Lynch and Madden, scholars of medicine, and the
franklin that hight Lenehan and one from Alba Longa, one Crotthers, and
young Stephen that had mien of a frere that was at head of the board
and Costello that men clepen Punch Costello all long of a mastery of
him erewhile gested (and of all them, reserved young Stephen, he was the
most drunken that demanded still of more mead) and beside the meek sir
Leopold. But on young Malachi they waited for that he promised to have
come and such as intended to no goodness said how he had broke his avow.
And sir Leopold sat with them for he bore fast friendship to sir Simon
and to this his son young Stephen and for that his languor becalmed him
there after longest wanderings insomuch as they feasted him for that
time in the honourablest manner. Ruth red him, love led on with will to
wander, loth to leave.

For they were right witty scholars. And he heard their aresouns each gen
other as touching birth and righteousness, young Madden maintaining that
put such case it were hard the wife to die (for so it had fallen out a
matter of some year agone with a woman of Eblana in Horne's house that
now was trespassed out of this world and the self night next before her
death all leeches and pothecaries had taken counsel of her case). And
they said farther she should live because in the beginning, they said,
the woman should bring forth in pain and wherefore they that were of
this imagination affirmed how young Madden had said truth for he had
conscience to let her die. And not few and of these was young Lynch
were in doubt that the world was now right evil governed as it was never
other howbeit the mean people believed it otherwise but the law nor his
judges did provide no remedy. A redress God grant. This was scant said
but all cried with one acclaim nay, by our Virgin Mother, the wife
should live and the babe to die. In colour whereof they waxed hot
upon that head what with argument and what for their drinking but the
franklin Lenehan was prompt each when to pour them ale so that at the
least way mirth might not lack. Then young Madden showed all the whole
affair and said how that she was dead and how for holy religion sake by
rede of palmer and bedesman and for a vow he had made to Saint Ultan of
Arbraccan her goodman husband would not let her death whereby they were
all wondrous grieved. To whom young Stephen had these words following:
Murmur, sirs, is eke oft among lay folk. Both babe and parent now
glorify their Maker, the one in limbo gloom, the other in purgefire.
But, gramercy, what of those Godpossibled souls that we nightly
impossibilise, which is the sin against the Holy Ghost, Very God, Lord
and Giver of Life? For, sirs, he said, our lust is brief. We are means
to those small creatures within us and nature has other ends than we.
Then said Dixon junior to Punch Costello wist he what ends. But he had
overmuch drunken and the best word he could have of him was that he
would ever dishonest a woman whoso she were or wife or maid or leman if
it so fortuned him to be delivered of his spleen of lustihead. Whereat
Crotthers of Alba Longa sang young Malachi's praise of that beast the
unicorn how once in the millennium he cometh by his horn, the other all
this while, pricked forward with their jibes wherewith they did malice
him, witnessing all and several by saint Foutinus his engines that
he was able to do any manner of thing that lay in man to do. Thereat
laughed they all right jocundly only young Stephen and sir Leopold which
never durst laugh too open by reason of a strange humour which he would
not bewray and also for that he rued for her that bare whoso she might
be or wheresoever. Then spake young Stephen orgulous of mother Church
that would cast him out of her bosom, of law of canons, of Lilith,
patron of abortions, of bigness wrought by wind of seeds of brightness
or by potency of vampires mouth to mouth or, as Virgilius saith, by the
influence of the occident or by the reek of moonflower or an she lie
with a woman which her man has but lain with, _effectu secuto_, or
peradventure in her bath according to the opinions of Averroes and Moses
Maimonides. He said also how at the end of the second month a human soul
was infused and how in all our holy mother foldeth ever souls for God's
greater glory whereas that earthly mother which was but a dam to bear
beastly should die by canon for so saith he that holdeth the fisherman's
seal, even that blessed Peter on which rock was holy church for all ages
founded.
All they bachelors then asked of sir Leopold would he in like
case so jeopard her person as risk life to save life. A wariness of
mind he would answer as fitted all and, laying hand to jaw, he said
dissembling, as his wont was, that as it was informed him, who had ever
loved the art of physic as might a layman, and agreeing also with his
experience of so seldomseen an accident it was good for that mother
Church belike at one blow had birth and death pence and in such sort
deliverly he scaped their questions. That is truth, pardy, said Dixon,
and, or I err, a pregnant word. Which hearing young Stephen was a
marvellous glad man and he averred that he who stealeth from the poor
lendeth to the Lord for he was of a wild manner when he was drunken and
that he was now in that taking it appeared eftsoons.

But sir Leopold was passing grave maugre his word by cause he still had
pity of the terrorcausing shrieking of shrill women in their labour
and as he was minded of his good lady Marion that had borne him an only
manchild which on his eleventh day on live had died and no man of art
could save so dark is destiny. And she was wondrous stricken of heart
for that evil hap and for his burial did him on a fair corselet of
lamb's wool, the flower of the flock, lest he might perish utterly and
lie akeled (for it was then about the midst of the winter) and now Sir
Leopold that had of his body no manchild for an heir looked upon him his
friend's son and was shut up in sorrow for his forepassed happiness and
as sad as he was that him failed a son of such gentle courage (for all
accounted him of real parts) so grieved he also in no less measure
for young Stephen for that he lived riotously with those wastrels and
murdered his goods with whores.

About that present time young Stephen filled all cups that stood empty
so as there remained but little mo if the prudenter had not shadowed
their approach from him that still plied it very busily who, praying for
the intentions of the sovereign pontiff, he gave them for a pledge the
vicar of Christ which also as he said is vicar of Bray. Now drink we,
quod he, of this mazer and quaff ye this mead which is not indeed parcel
of my body but my soul's bodiment. Leave ye fraction of bread to them
that live by bread alone. Be not afeard neither for any want for this
will comfort more than the other will dismay. See ye here. And he showed
them glistering coins of the tribute and goldsmith notes the worth of
two pound nineteen shilling that he had, he said, for a song which he
writ. They all admired to see the foresaid riches in such dearth of
money as was herebefore. His words were then these as followeth: Know
all men, he said, time's ruins build eternity's mansions. What means
this? Desire's wind blasts the thorntree but after it becomes from a
bramblebush to be a rose upon the rood of time. Mark me now. In woman's
womb word is made flesh but in the spirit of the maker all flesh
that passes becomes the word that shall not pass away. This is the
postcreation. _Omnis caro ad te veniet_. No question but her name is
puissant who aventried the dear corse of our Agenbuyer, Healer and Herd,
our mighty mother and mother most venerable and Bernardus saith aptly
that She hath an _omnipotentiam deiparae supplicem_, that is to wit, an
almightiness of petition because she is the second Eve and she won
us, saith Augustine too, whereas that other, our grandam, which we are
linked up with by successive anastomosis of navelcords sold us all,
seed, breed and generation, for a penny pippin. But here is the matter
now. Or she knew him, that second I say, and was but creature of her
creature, _vergine madre, figlia di tuo figlio_, or she knew him not and
then stands she in the one denial or ignorancy with Peter Piscator who
lives in the house that Jack built and with Joseph the joiner patron of
the happy demise of all unhappy marriages, _parceque M. Leo Taxil nous
a dit que qui l'avait mise dans cette fichue position c'etait le
sacre pigeon, ventre de Dieu! Entweder_ transubstantiality ODER
consubstantiality but in no case subsubstantiality. And all cried out
upon it for a very scurvy word. A pregnancy without joy, he said, a
birth without pangs, a body without blemish, a belly without bigness.
Let the lewd with faith and fervour worship. With will will we
withstand, withsay.

Hereupon Punch Costello dinged with his fist upon the board and would
sing a bawdy catch _Staboo Stabella_ about a wench that was put in pod
of a jolly swashbuckler in Almany which he did straightways now attack:
_The first three months she was not well, Staboo,_ when here nurse
Quigley from the door angerly bid them hist ye should shame you nor
was it not meet as she remembered them being her mind was to have all
orderly against lord Andrew came for because she was jealous that
no gasteful turmoil might shorten the honour of her guard. It was an
ancient and a sad matron of a sedate look and christian walking,
in habit dun beseeming her megrims and wrinkled visage, nor did her
hortative want of it effect for incontinently Punch Costello was of them
all embraided and they reclaimed the churl with civil rudeness some and
shaked him with menace of blandishments others whiles they all chode
with him, a murrain seize the dolt, what a devil he would be at, thou
chuff, thou puny, thou got in peasestraw, thou losel, thou chitterling,
thou spawn of a rebel, thou dykedropt, thou abortion thou, to shut up
his drunken drool out of that like a curse of God ape, the good sir
Leopold that had for his cognisance the flower of quiet, margerain
gentle, advising also the time's occasion as most sacred and most worthy
to be most sacred. In Horne's house rest should reign.

To be short this passage was scarce by when Master Dixon of Mary in
Eccles, goodly grinning, asked young Stephen what was the reason why he
had not cided to take friar's vows and he answered him obedience in the
womb, chastity in the tomb but involuntary poverty all his days. Master
Lenehan at this made return that he had heard of those nefarious deeds
and how, as he heard hereof counted, he had besmirched the lily virtue
of a confiding female which was corruption of minors and they all
intershowed it too, waxing merry and toasting to his fathership. But he
said very entirely it was clean contrary to their suppose for he was
the eternal son and ever virgin. Thereat mirth grew in them the more and
they rehearsed to him his curious rite of wedlock for the disrobing and
deflowering of spouses, as the priests use in Madagascar island, she
to be in guise of white and saffron, her groom in white and grain, with
burning of nard and tapers, on a bridebed while clerks sung kyries and
the anthem _Ut novetur sexus omnis corporis mysterium_ till she was
there unmaided. He gave them then a much admirable hymen minim by those
delicate poets Master John Fletcher and Master Francis Beaumont that is
in their _Maid's Tragedy_ that was writ for a like twining of lovers:
_To bed, to bed_ was the burden of it to be played with accompanable
concent upon the virginals. An exquisite dulcet epithalame of most
mollificative suadency for juveniles amatory whom the odoriferous
flambeaus of the paranymphs have escorted to the quadrupedal proscenium
of connubial communion. Well met they were, said Master Dixon, joyed,
but, harkee, young sir, better were they named Beau Mount and Lecher
for, by my troth, of such a mingling much might come. Young Stephen said
indeed to his best remembrance they had but the one doxy between them
and she of the stews to make shift with in delights amorous for life ran
very high in those days and the custom of the country approved with it.
Greater love than this, he said, no man hath that a man lay down his
wife for his friend. Go thou and do likewise. Thus, or words to that
effect, saith Zarathustra, sometime regius professor of French letters
to the university of Oxtail nor breathed there ever that man to whom
mankind was more beholden. Bring a stranger within thy tower it will
go hard but thou wilt have the secondbest bed. _Orate, fratres, pro
memetipso_. And all the people shall say, Amen. Remember, Erin, thy
generations and thy days of old, how thou settedst little by me and by
my word and broughtedst in a stranger to my gates to commit fornication
in my sight and to wax fat and kick like Jeshurum. Therefore hast thou
sinned against my light and hast made me, thy lord, to be the slave of
servants. Return, return, Clan Milly: forget me not, O Milesian. Why
hast thou done this abomination before me that thou didst spurn me for
a merchant of jalaps and didst deny me to the Roman and to the Indian of
dark speech with whom thy daughters did lie luxuriously? Look forth now,
my people, upon the land of behest, even from Horeb and from Nebo and
from Pisgah and from the Horns of Hatten unto a land flowing with milk
and money. But thou hast suckled me with a bitter milk: my moon and my
sun thou hast quenched for ever. And thou hast left me alone for ever
in the dark ways of my bitterness: and with a kiss of ashes hast thou
kissed my mouth. This tenebrosity of the interior, he proceeded to say,
hath not been illumined by the wit of the septuagint nor so much as
mentioned for the Orient from on high Which brake hell's gates visited a
darkness that was foraneous. Assuefaction minorates atrocities (as Tully
saith of his darling Stoics) and Hamlet his father showeth the prince no
blister of combustion. The adiaphane in the noon of life is an Egypt's
plague which in the nights of prenativity and postmortemity is their
most proper _ubi_ and _quomodo_. And as the ends and ultimates of
all things accord in some mean and measure with their inceptions and
originals, that same multiplicit concordance which leads forth growth
from birth accomplishing by a retrogressive metamorphosis that minishing
and ablation towards the final which is agreeable unto nature so is it
with our subsolar being. The aged sisters draw us into life: we wail,
batten, sport, clip, clasp, sunder, dwindle, die: over us dead they
bend. First, saved from waters of old Nile, among bulrushes, a bed
of fasciated wattles: at last the cavity of a mountain, an occulted
sepulchre amid the conclamation of the hillcat and the ossifrage. And as
no man knows the ubicity of his tumulus nor to what processes we shall
thereby be ushered nor whether to Tophet or to Edenville in the like way
is all hidden when we would backward see from what region of remoteness
the whatness of our whoness hath fetched his whenceness.

Thereto Punch Costello roared out mainly _Etienne chanson_ but he loudly
bid them, lo, wisdom hath built herself a house, this vast majestic
longstablished vault, the crystal palace of the Creator, all in applepie
order, a penny for him who finds the pea.

_Behold the mansion reared by dedal Jack
See the malt stored in many a refluent sack,
In the proud cirque of Jackjohn's bivouac. _

A black crack of noise in the street here, alack, bawled back. Loud on
left Thor thundered: in anger awful the hammerhurler. Came now the storm
that hist his heart. And Master Lynch bade him have a care to flout and
witwanton as the god self was angered for his hellprate and paganry. And
he that had erst challenged to be so doughty waxed wan as they might all
mark and shrank together and his pitch that was before so haught uplift
was now of a sudden quite plucked down and his heart shook within the
cage of his breast as he tasted the rumour of that storm. Then did some
mock and some jeer and Punch Costello fell hard again to his yale which
Master Lenehan vowed he would do after and he was indeed but a word and
a blow on any the least colour. But the braggart boaster cried that an
old Nobodaddy was in his cups it was muchwhat indifferent and he would
not lag behind his lead. But this was only to dye his desperation as
cowed he crouched in Horne's hall. He drank indeed at one draught to
pluck up a heart of any grace for it thundered long rumblingly over all
the heavens so that Master Madden, being godly certain whiles, knocked
him on his ribs upon that crack of doom and Master Bloom, at the
braggart's side, spoke to him calming words to slumber his great fear,
advertising how it was no other thing but a hubbub noise that he heard,
the discharge of fluid from the thunderhead, look you, having taken
place, and all of the order of a natural phenomenon.

But was young Boasthard's fear vanquished by Calmer's words? No, for he
had in his bosom a spike named Bitterness which could not by words be
done away. And was he then neither calm like the one nor godly like the
other? He was neither as much as he would have liked to be either. But
could he not have endeavoured to have found again as in his youth the
bottle Holiness that then he lived withal? Indeed no for Grace was not
there to find that bottle. Heard he then in that clap the voice of the
god Bringforth or, what Calmer said, a hubbub of Phenomenon? Heard?
Why, he could not but hear unless he had plugged him up the tube
Understanding (which he had not done). For through that tube he saw that
he was in the land of Phenomenon where he must for a certain one day die
as he was like the rest too a passing show. And would he not accept to
die like the rest and pass away? By no means would he though he must nor
would he make more shows according as men do with wives which Phenomenon
has commanded them to do by the book Law. Then wotted he nought of that
other land which is called Believe-on-Me, that is the land of promise
which behoves to the king Delightful and shall be for ever where there
is no death and no birth neither wiving nor mothering at which all shall
come as many as believe on it? Yes, Pious had told him of that land and
Chaste had pointed him to the way but the reason was that in the way he
fell in with a certain whore of an eyepleasing exterior whose name, she
said, is Bird-in-the-Hand and she beguiled him wrongways from the true
path by her flatteries that she said to him as, Ho, you pretty man, turn
aside hither and I will show you a brave place, and she lay at him so
flatteringly that she had him in her grot which is named Two-in-the-Bush
or, by some learned, Carnal Concupiscence.

This was it what all that company that sat there at commons in Manse
of Mothers the most lusted after and if they met with this whore
Bird-in-the-Hand (which was within all foul plagues, monsters and a
wicked devil) they would strain the last but they would make at her and
know her. For regarding Believe-on-Me they said it was nought else
but notion and they could conceive no thought of it for, first,
Two-in-the-Bush whither she ticed them was the very goodliest grot and
in it were four pillows on which were four tickets with these words
printed on them, Pickaback and Topsyturvy and Shameface and Cheek by
Jowl and, second, for that foul plague Allpox and the monsters they
cared not for them for Preservative had given them a stout shield of
oxengut and, third, that they might take no hurt neither from Offspring
that was that wicked devil by virtue of this same shield which was
named Killchild. So were they all in their blind fancy, Mr Cavil and Mr
Sometimes Godly, Mr Ape Swillale, Mr False Franklin, Mr Dainty Dixon,
Young Boasthard and Mr Cautious Calmer. Wherein, O wretched company,
were ye all deceived for that was the voice of the god that was in a
very grievous rage that he would presently lift his arm up and
spill their souls for their abuses and their spillings done by them
contrariwise to his word which forth to bring brenningly biddeth.

So Thursday sixteenth June Patk. Dignam laid in clay of an apoplexy and
after hard drought, please God, rained, a bargeman coming in by water a
fifty mile or thereabout with turf saying the seed won't sprout, fields
athirst, very sadcoloured and stunk mightily, the quags and tofts too.
Hard to breathe and all the young quicks clean consumed without sprinkle
this long while back as no man remembered to be without. The rosy buds
all gone brown and spread out blobs and on the hills nought but dry flag
and faggots that would catch at first fire. All the world saying, for
aught they knew, the big wind of last February a year that did havoc the
land so pitifully a small thing beside this barrenness. But by and
by, as said, this evening after sundown, the wind sitting in the
west, biggish swollen clouds to be seen as the night increased and the
weatherwise poring up at them and some sheet lightnings at first and
after, past ten of the clock, one great stroke with a long thunder and
in a brace of shakes all scamper pellmell within door for the smoking
shower, the men making shelter for their straws with a clout or
kerchief, womenfolk skipping off with kirtles catched up soon as the
pour came. In Ely place, Baggot street, Duke's lawn, thence through
Merrion green up to Holles street a swash of water flowing that was
before bonedry and not one chair or coach or fiacre seen about but
no more crack after that first. Over against the Rt. Hon. Mr Justice
Fitzgibbon's door (that is to sit with Mr Healy the lawyer upon the
college lands) Mal. Mulligan a gentleman's gentleman that had but come
from Mr Moore's the writer's (that was a papish but is now, folk say,
a good Williamite) chanced against Alec. Bannon in a cut bob (which are
now in with dance cloaks of Kendal green) that was new got to town from
Mullingar with the stage where his coz and Mal M's brother will stay a
month yet till Saint Swithin and asks what in the earth he does there,
he bound home and he to Andrew Horne's being stayed for to crush a cup
of wine, so he said, but would tell him of a skittish heifer, big of
her age and beef to the heel, and all this while poured with rain and
so both together on to Horne's. There Leop. Bloom of Crawford's journal
sitting snug with a covey of wags, likely brangling fellows, Dixon jun. ,
scholar of my lady of Mercy's, Vin. Lynch, a Scots fellow, Will. Madden,
T. Lenehan, very sad about a racer he fancied and Stephen D. Leop. Bloom
there for a languor he had but was now better, be having dreamed tonight
a strange fancy of his dame Mrs Moll with red slippers on in a pair of
Turkey trunks which is thought by those in ken to be for a change and
Mistress Purefoy there, that got in through pleading her belly, and now
on the stools, poor body, two days past her term, the midwives sore put
to it and can't deliver, she queasy for a bowl of riceslop that is a
shrewd drier up of the insides and her breath very heavy more than good
and should be a bullyboy from the knocks, they say, but God give her
soon issue. 'Tis her ninth chick to live, I hear, and Lady day bit off
her last chick's nails that was then a twelvemonth and with other three
all breastfed that died written out in a fair hand in the king's bible.
Her hub fifty odd and a methodist but takes the sacrament and is to
be seen any fair sabbath with a pair of his boys off Bullock harbour
dapping on the sound with a heavybraked reel or in a punt he has
trailing for flounder and pollock and catches a fine bag, I hear. In sum
an infinite great fall of rain and all refreshed and will much increase
the harvest yet those in ken say after wind and water fire shall come
for a prognostication of Malachi's almanac (and I hear that Mr Russell
has done a prophetical charm of the same gist out of the Hindustanish
for his farmer's gazette) to have three things in all but this a mere
fetch without bottom of reason for old crones and bairns yet sometimes
they are found in the right guess with their queerities no telling how.

With this came up Lenehan to the feet of the table to say how the letter
was in that night's gazette and he made a show to find it about him
(for he swore with an oath that he had been at pains about it) but on
Stephen's persuasion he gave over the search and was bidden to sit near
by which he did mighty brisk. He was a kind of sport gentleman that
went for a merryandrew or honest pickle and what belonged of women,
horseflesh or hot scandal he had it pat. To tell the truth he was mean
in fortunes and for the most part hankered about the coffeehouses
and low taverns with crimps, ostlers, bookies, Paul's men, runners,
flatcaps, waistcoateers, ladies of the bagnio and other rogues of the
game or with a chanceable catchpole or a tipstaff often at nights
till broad day of whom he picked up between his sackpossets much loose
gossip. He took his ordinary at a boilingcook's and if he had but gotten
into him a mess of broken victuals or a platter of tripes with a bare
tester in his purse he could always bring himself off with his tongue,
some randy quip he had from a punk or whatnot that every mother's son of
them would burst their sides. The other, Costello that is, hearing this
talk asked was it poetry or a tale. Faith, no, he says, Frank (that was
his name), 'tis all about Kerry cows that are to be butchered along of
the plague. But they can go hang, says he with a wink, for me with their
bully beef, a pox on it. There's as good fish in this tin as ever came
out of it and very friendly he offered to take of some salty sprats that
stood by which he had eyed wishly in the meantime and found the place
which was indeed the chief design of his embassy as he was sharpset.
_Mort aux vaches_, says Frank then in the French language that had been
indentured to a brandyshipper that has a winelodge in Bordeaux and he
spoke French like a gentleman too. From a child this Frank had been
a donought that his father, a headborough, who could ill keep him to
school to learn his letters and the use of the globes, matriculated at
the university to study the mechanics but he took the bit between his
teeth like a raw colt and was more familiar with the justiciary and the
parish beadle than with his volumes. One time he would be a playactor,
then a sutler or a welsher, then nought would keep him from the bearpit
and the cocking main, then he was for the ocean sea or to hoof it on
the roads with the romany folk, kidnapping a squire's heir by favour of
moonlight or fecking maids' linen or choking chicken behind a hedge. He
had been off as many times as a cat has lives and back again with naked
pockets as many more to his father the headborough who shed a pint
of tears as often as he saw him. What, says Mr Leopold with his hands
across, that was earnest to know the drift of it, will they slaughter
all? I protest I saw them but this day morning going to the Liverpool
boats, says he. I can scarce believe 'tis so bad, says he. And he had
experience of the like brood beasts and of springers, greasy hoggets and
wether wool, having been some years before actuary for Mr Joseph Cuffe,
a worthy salesmaster that drove his trade for live stock and meadow
auctions hard by Mr Gavin Low's yard in Prussia street. I question with
you there, says he. More like 'tis the hoose or the timber tongue. Mr
Stephen, a little moved but very handsomely told him no such matter and
that he had dispatches from the emperor's chief tailtickler thanking
him for the hospitality, that was sending over Doctor Rinderpest, the
bestquoted cowcatcher in all Muscovy, with a bolus or two of physic to
take the bull by the horns. Come, come, says Mr Vincent, plain dealing.
He'll find himself on the horns of a dilemma if he meddles with a
bull that's Irish, says he. Irish by name and irish by nature, says Mr
Stephen, and he sent the ale purling about, an Irish bull in an English
chinashop. I conceive you, says Mr Dixon. It is that same bull that was
sent to our island by farmer Nicholas, the bravest cattlebreeder of them
all, with an emerald ring in his nose. True for you, says Mr Vincent
cross the table, and a bullseye into the bargain, says he, and a plumper
and a portlier bull, says he, never shit on shamrock. He had horns
galore, a coat of cloth of gold and a sweet smoky breath coming out of
his nostrils so that the women of our island, leaving doughballs and
rollingpins, followed after him hanging his bulliness in daisychains.
What for that, says Mr Dixon, but before he came over farmer Nicholas
that was a eunuch had him properly gelded by a college of doctors who
were no better off than himself. So be off now, says he, and do all my
cousin german the lord Harry tells you and take a farmer's blessing, and
with that he slapped his posteriors very soundly. But the slap and the
blessing stood him friend, says Mr Vincent, for to make up he taught him
a trick worth two of the other so that maid, wife, abbess and widow to
this day affirm that they would rather any time of the month whisper
in his ear in the dark of a cowhouse or get a lick on the nape from his
long holy tongue than lie with the finest strapping young ravisher in
the four fields of all Ireland. Another then put in his word: And they
dressed him, says he, in a point shift and petticoat with a tippet and
girdle and ruffles on his wrists and clipped his forelock and rubbed him
all over with spermacetic oil and built stables for him at every turn of
the road with a gold manger in each full of the best hay in the market
so that he could doss and dung to his heart's content. By this time the
father of the faithful (for so they called him) was grown so heavy that
he could scarce walk to pasture. To remedy which our cozening dames and
damsels brought him his fodder in their apronlaps and as soon as his
belly was full he would rear up on his hind uarters to show their
ladyships a mystery and roar and bellow out of him in bulls' language
and they all after him. Ay, says another, and so pampered was he that he
would suffer nought to grow in all the land but green grass for himself
(for that was the only colour to his mind) and there was a board put up
on a hillock in the middle of the island with a printed notice, saying:
By the Lord Harry, Green is the grass that grows on the ground. And,
says Mr Dixon, if ever he got scent of a cattleraider in Roscommon or
the wilds of Connemara or a husbandman in Sligo that was sowing as much
as a handful of mustard or a bag of rapeseed out he'd run amok over half
the countryside rooting up with his horns whatever was planted and all
by lord Harry's orders. There was bad blood between them at first, says
Mr Vincent, and the lord Harry called farmer Nicholas all the old Nicks
in the world and an old whoremaster that kept seven trulls in his house
and I'll meddle in his matters, says he. I'll make that animal smell
hell, says he, with the help of that good pizzle my father left me. But
one evening, says Mr Dixon, when the lord Harry was cleaning his royal
pelt to go to dinner after winning a boatrace (he had spade oars for
himself but the first rule of the course was that the others were to row
with pitchforks) he discovered in himself a wonderful likeness to a bull
and on picking up a blackthumbed chapbook that he kept in the pantry
he found sure enough that he was a lefthanded descendant of the famous
champion bull of the Romans, _Bos Bovum_, which is good bog Latin for
boss of the show. After that, says Mr Vincent, the lord Harry put his
head into a cow's drinkingtrough in the presence of all his courtiers
and pulling it out again told them all his new name. Then, with the
water running off him, he got into an old smock and skirt that had
belonged to his grandmother and bought a grammar of the bulls' language
to study but he could never learn a word of it except the first personal
pronoun which he copied out big and got off by heart and if ever he went
out for a walk he filled his pockets with chalk to write it upon what
took his fancy, the side of a rock or a teahouse table or a bale of
cotton or a corkfloat. In short, he and the bull of Ireland were soon as
fast friends as an arse and a shirt. They were, says Mr Stephen, and
the end was that the men of the island seeing no help was toward, as
the ungrate women were all of one mind, made a wherry raft, loaded
themselves and their bundles of chattels on shipboard, set all masts
erect, manned the yards, sprang their luff, heaved to, spread three
sheets in the wind, put her head between wind and water, weighed anchor,
ported her helm, ran up the jolly Roger, gave three times three, let the
bullgine run, pushed off in their bumboat and put to sea to recover
the main of America. Which was the occasion, says Mr Vincent, of the
composing by a boatswain of that rollicking chanty:

_--Pope Peter's but a pissabed.
A man's a man for a' that. _

Our worthy acquaintance Mr Malachi Mulligan now appeared in the doorway
as the students were finishing their apologue accompanied with a friend
whom he had just rencountered, a young gentleman, his name Alec Bannon,
who had late come to town, it being his intention to buy a colour or a
cornetcy in the fencibles and list for the wars. Mr Mulligan was civil
enough to express some relish of it all the more as it jumped with a
project of his own for the cure of the very evil that had been touched
on. Whereat he handed round to the company a set of pasteboard cards
which he had had printed that day at Mr Quinnell's bearing a legend
printed in fair italics: _Mr Malachi Mulligan. Fertiliser and Incubator.
Lambay Island_. His project, as he went on to expound, was to withdraw
from the round of idle pleasures such as form the chief business of sir
Fopling Popinjay and sir Milksop Quidnunc in town and to devote himself
to the noblest task for which our bodily organism has been framed. Well,
let us hear of it, good my friend, said Mr Dixon. I make no doubt it
smacks of wenching. Come, be seated, both. 'Tis as cheap sitting as
standing. Mr Mulligan accepted of the invitation and, expatiating upon
his design, told his hearers that he had been led into this thought by
a consideration of the causes of sterility, both the inhibitory and the
prohibitory, whether the inhibition in its turn were due to conjugal
vexations or to a parsimony of the balance as well as whether the
prohibition proceeded from defects congenital or from proclivities
acquired. It grieved him plaguily, he said, to see the nuptial couch
defrauded of its dearest pledges: and to reflect upon so many agreeable
females with rich jointures, a prey to the vilest bonzes, who hide their
flambeau under a bushel in an uncongenial cloister or lose their womanly
bloom in the embraces of some unaccountable muskin when they might
multiply the inlets of happiness, sacrificing the inestimable jewel of
their sex when a hundred pretty fellows were at hand to caress, this, he
assured them, made his heart weep. To curb this inconvenient (which
he concluded due to a suppression of latent heat), having advised with
certain counsellors of worth and inspected into this matter, he had
resolved to purchase in fee simple for ever the freehold of Lambay
island from its holder, lord Talbot de Malahide, a Tory gentleman of
note much in favour with our ascendancy party. He proposed to set up
there a national fertilising farm to be named _Omphalos_ with an obelisk
hewn and erected after the fashion of Egypt and to offer his dutiful
yeoman services for the fecundation of any female of what grade of life
soever who should there direct to him with the desire of fulfilling the
functions of her natural. Money was no object, he said, nor would he
take a penny for his pains. The poorest kitchenwench no less than the
opulent lady of fashion, if so be their constructions and their tempers
were warm persuaders for their petitions, would find in him their man.
For his nutriment he shewed how he would feed himself exclusively upon a
diet of savoury tubercles and fish and coneys there, the flesh of these
latter prolific rodents being highly recommended for his purpose, both
broiled and stewed with a blade of mace and a pod or two of capsicum
chillies. After this homily which he delivered with much warmth of
asseveration Mr Mulligan in a trice put off from his hat a kerchief with
which he had shielded it. They both, it seems, had been overtaken by the
rain and for all their mending their pace had taken water, as might be
observed by Mr Mulligan's smallclothes of a hodden grey which was now
somewhat piebald. His project meanwhile was very favourably entertained
by his auditors and won hearty eulogies from all though Mr Dixon of
Mary's excepted to it, asking with a finicking air did he purpose also
to carry coals to Newcastle. Mr Mulligan however made court to the
scholarly by an apt quotation from the classics which, as it dwelt
upon his memory, seemed to him a sound and tasteful support of his
contention: _Talis ac tanta depravatio hujus seculi, O quirites,
ut matresfamiliarum nostrae lascivas cujuslibet semiviri libici
titillationes testibus ponderosis atque excelsis erectionibus
centurionum Romanorum magnopere anteponunt_, while for those of ruder
wit he drove home his point by analogies of the animal kingdom more
suitable to their stomach, the buck and doe of the forest glade, the
farmyard drake and duck.

Valuing himself not a little upon his elegance, being indeed a proper
man of person, this talkative now applied himself to his dress with
animadversions of some heat upon the sudden whimsy of the atmospherics
while the company lavished their encomiums upon the project he had
advanced. The young gentleman, his friend, overjoyed as he was at a
passage that had late befallen him, could not forbear to tell it his
nearest neighbour. Mr Mulligan, now perceiving the table, asked for whom
were those loaves and fishes and, seeing the stranger, he made him
a civil bow and said, Pray, sir, was you in need of any professional
assistance we could give? Who, upon his offer, thanked him very
heartily, though preserving his proper distance, and replied that he was
come there about a lady, now an inmate of Horne's house, that was in an
interesting condition, poor body, from woman's woe (and here he fetched
a deep sigh) to know if her happiness had yet taken place. Mr Dixon,
to turn the table, took on to ask of Mr Mulligan himself whether
his incipient ventripotence, upon which he rallied him, betokened an
ovoblastic gestation in the prostatic utricle or male womb or was due,
as with the noted physician, Mr Austin Meldon, to a wolf in the stomach.
For answer Mr Mulligan, in a gale of laughter at his smalls, smote
himself bravely below the diaphragm, exclaiming with an admirable droll
mimic of Mother Grogan (the most excellent creature of her sex though
'tis pity she's a trollop): There's a belly that never bore a bastard.
This was so happy a conceit that it renewed the storm of mirth and threw
the whole room into the most violent agitations of delight. The spry
rattle had run on in the same vein of mimicry but for some larum in the
antechamber.

Here the listener who was none other than the Scotch student, a little
fume of a fellow, blond as tow, congratulated in the liveliest fashion
with the young gentleman and, interrupting the narrative at a salient
point, having desired his visavis with a polite beck to have the
obligingness to pass him a flagon of cordial waters at the same time by
a questioning poise of the head (a whole century of polite breeding had
not achieved so nice a gesture) to which was united an equivalent but
contrary balance of the bottle asked the narrator as plainly as was ever
done in words if he might treat him with a cup of it. _Mais bien sur_,
noble stranger, said he cheerily, _et mille compliments_. That you may
and very opportunely. There wanted nothing but this cup to crown my
felicity. But, gracious heaven, was I left with but a crust in my wallet
and a cupful of water from the well, my God, I would accept of them and
find it in my heart to kneel down upon the ground and give thanks to
the powers above for the happiness vouchsafed me by the Giver of good
things. With these words he approached the goblet to his lips, took a
complacent draught of the cordial, slicked his hair and, opening his
bosom, out popped a locket that hung from a silk riband, that very
picture which he had cherished ever since her hand had wrote therein.
Gazing upon those features with a world of tenderness, Ah, Monsieur, he
said, had you but beheld her as I did with these eyes at that affecting
instant with her dainty tucker and her new coquette cap (a gift for her
feastday as she told me prettily) in such an artless disorder, of so
melting a tenderness, 'pon my conscience, even you, Monsieur, had been
impelled by generous nature to deliver yourself wholly into the hands of
such an enemy or to quit the field for ever. I declare, I was never so
touched in all my life. God, I thank thee, as the Author of my days!
Thrice happy will he be whom so amiable a creature will bless with her
favours. A sigh of affection gave eloquence to these words and, having
replaced the locket in his bosom, he wiped his eye and sighed again.
Beneficent Disseminator of blessings to all Thy creatures, how great
and universal must be that sweetest of Thy tyrannies which can hold in
thrall the free and the bond, the simple swain and the polished coxcomb,
the lover in the heyday of reckless passion and the husband of maturer
years. But indeed, sir, I wander from the point. How mingled and
imperfect are all our sublunary joys. Maledicity! he exclaimed in
anguish. Would to God that foresight had but remembered me to take my
cloak along!