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Ulysses by James Joyce

Written by eastern writer on Sunday, August 19, 2007

This is a hypertextual, self-referential edition of Ulysses by James Joyce. The text was prepared using the Project Gutenberg edition.

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-- I --
[6] lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown,
[7] ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him by the mild morning air. He
[8] held the bowl aloft and intoned:
[12] Halted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called out coarsely:
[14] --Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fearful jesuit!
[16] Solemnly he came forward and mounted the round gunrest. He faced about
[17] and blessed gravely thrice the tower, the surrounding land and the
[18] awaking mountains. Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, he bent
[19] towards him and made rapid crosses in the air, gurgling in his throat and
[20] shaking his head. Stephen Dedalus, displeased and sleepy, leaned his arms
[21] on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shaking gurgling
[22] face that blessed him, equine in its length, and at the light untonsured
[23] hair, grained and hued like pale oak.
[25] Buck Mulligan peeped an instant under the mirror and then covered
[26] the bowl smartly.
[28] --Back to barracks! he said sternly.
[30] He added in a preacher's tone:
[32] --For this, O dearly beloved, is the genuine Christine: body and soul and
[33] blood and ouns. Slow music, please. Shut your eyes, gents. One moment. A
[34] little trouble about those white corpuscles. Silence, all.
[36] He peered sideways up and gave a long slow whistle of call, then paused
[37] awhile in rapt attention, his even white teeth glistening here and there
[38] with gold points. Chrysostomos. Two strong shrill whistles answered
[39] through the calm.
[41] --Thanks, old chap, he cried briskly. That will do nicely. Switch off the
[42] current, will you?
[44] He skipped off the gunrest and looked gravely at his watcher, gathering
[45] about his legs the loose folds of his gown. The plump shadowed face and
[46] sullen oval jowl recalled a prelate, patron of arts in the middle ages. A
[47] pleasant smile broke quietly over his lips.
[49] --The mockery of it! he said gaily. Your absurd name, an ancient Greek!
[51] He pointed his finger in friendly jest and went over to the parapet,
[52] laughing to himself. Stephen Dedalus stepped up, followed him wearily
[53] halfway and sat down on the edge of the gunrest, watching him still as he
[54] propped his mirror on the parapet, dipped the brush in the bowl and
[55] lathered cheeks and neck.
[57] Buck Mulligan's gay voice went on.
[59] --My name is absurd too: Malachi Mulligan, two dactyls. But it has a
[60] Hellenic ring, hasn't it? Tripping and sunny like the buck himself. We
[61] must go to Athens. Will you come if I can get the aunt to fork out twenty
[62] quid?
[64] He laid the brush aside and, laughing with delight, cried:
[66] --Will he come? The jejune jesuit!
[68] Ceasing, he began to shave with care.
[70] --Tell me, Mulligan, Stephen said quietly.
[72] --Yes, my love?
[74] --How long is Haines going to stay in this tower?
[76] Buck Mulligan showed a shaven cheek over his right shoulder.
[78] --God, isn't he dreadful? he said frankly. A ponderous Saxon. He thinks
[79] you're not a gentleman. God, these bloody English! Bursting with money
[80] and indigestion. Because he comes from Oxford. You know, Dedalus, you
[81] have the real Oxford manner. He can't make you out. O, my name for you is
[82] the best: Kinch, the knife-blade.
[84] He shaved warily over his chin.
[86] --He was raving all night about a black panther, Stephen said. Where is
[87] his guncase?
[89] --A woful lunatic! Mulligan said. Were you in a funk?
[91] --I was, Stephen said with energy and growing fear. Out here in the dark
[92] with a man I don't know raving and moaning to himself about shooting a
[93] black panther. You saved men from drowning. I'm not a hero, however. If
[94] he stays on here I am off.
[96] Buck Mulligan frowned at the lather on his razorblade. He hopped down
[97] from his perch and began to search his trouser pockets hastily.
[99] --Scutter! he cried thickly.
[101] He came over to the gunrest and, thrusting a hand into Stephen's upper
[102] pocket, said:
[104] --Lend us a loan of your noserag to wipe my razor.
[106] Stephen suffered him to pull out and hold up on show by its corner a
[107] dirty crumpled handkerchief. Buck Mulligan wiped the razorblade neatly.
[108] Then, gazing over the handkerchief, he said:
[110] --The bard's noserag! A new art colour for our Irish poets: snotgreen.
[111] You can almost taste it, can't you?
[113] He mounted to the parapet again and gazed out over Dublin bay, his fair
[114] oakpale hair stirring slightly.
[116] --God! he said quietly. Isn't the sea what Algy calls it: a great sweet
[117] mother? The snotgreen sea. The scrotumtightening sea. EPI OINOPA PONTON.
[118] Ah, Dedalus, the Greeks! I must teach you. You must read them in the
[119] original. THALATTA! THALATTA! She is our great sweet mother. Come and
[120] look.
[122] Stephen stood up and went over to the parapet. Leaning on it he looked
[123] down on the water and on the mailboat clearing the harbourmouth of
[124] Kingstown.
[126] --Our mighty mother! Buck Mulligan said.
[128] He turned abruptly his grey searching eyes from the sea to Stephen's
[129] face.
[131] --The aunt thinks you killed your mother, he said. That's why she won't
[132] let me have anything to do with you.
[134] --Someone killed her, Stephen said gloomily.
[136] --You could have knelt down, damn it, Kinch, when your dying mother asked
[137] you, Buck Mulligan said. I'm hyperborean as much as you. But to think of
[138] your mother begging you with her last breath to kneel down and pray for
[139] her. And you refused. There is something sinister in you ...
[141] He broke off and lathered again lightly his farther cheek. A tolerant
[142] smile curled his lips.
[144] --But a lovely mummer! he murmured to himself. Kinch, the loveliest
[145] mummer of them all!
[147] He shaved evenly and with care, in silence, seriously.
[149] Stephen, an elbow rested on the jagged granite, leaned his palm against
[150] his brow and gazed at the fraying edge of his shiny black coat-sleeve.
[151] Pain, that was not yet the pain of love, fretted his heart. Silently, in
[152] a dream she had come to him after her death, her wasted body within its
[153] loose brown graveclothes giving off an odour of wax and rosewood, her
[154] breath, that had bent upon him, mute, reproachful, a faint odour of
[155] wetted ashes. Across the threadbare cuffedge he saw the sea hailed as a
[156] great sweet mother by the wellfed voice beside him. The ring of bay and
[157] skyline held a dull green mass of liquid. A bowl of white china had stood
[158] beside her deathbed holding the green sluggish bile which she had torn up
[159] from her rotting liver by fits of loud groaning vomiting.
[161] Buck Mulligan wiped again his razorblade.
[163] --Ah, poor dogsbody! he said in a kind voice. I must give you a shirt and
[164] a few noserags. How are the secondhand breeks?
[166] --They fit well enough, Stephen answered.
[168] Buck Mulligan attacked the hollow beneath his underlip.
[170] --The mockery of it, he said contentedly. Secondleg they should be. God
[171] knows what poxy bowsy left them off. I have a lovely pair with a hair
[172] stripe, grey. You'll look spiffing in them. I'm not joking, Kinch. You
[173] look damn well when you're dressed.
[175] --Thanks, Stephen said. I can't wear them if they are grey.
[177] --He can't wear them, Buck Mulligan told his face in the mirror.
[178] Etiquette is etiquette. He kills his mother but he can't wear grey
[179] trousers.
[181] He folded his razor neatly and with stroking palps of fingers felt the
[182] smooth skin.
[184] Stephen turned his gaze from the sea and to the plump face with its
[185] smokeblue mobile eyes.
[187] --That fellow I was with in the Ship last night, said Buck Mulligan, says
[188] you have g.p.i. He's up in Dottyville with Connolly Norman. General
[189] paralysis of the insane!
[191] He swept the mirror a half circle in the air to flash the tidings abroad
[192] in sunlight now radiant on the sea. His curling shaven lips laughed and
[193] the edges of his white glittering teeth. Laughter seized all his strong
[194] wellknit trunk.
[196] --Look at yourself, he said, you dreadful bard!
[198] Stephen bent forward and peered at the mirror held out to him, cleft by a
[199] crooked crack. Hair on end. As he and others see me. Who chose this face
[200] for me? This dogsbody to rid of vermin. It asks me too.
[202] --I pinched it out of the skivvy's room, Buck Mulligan said. It does her
[203] all right. The aunt always keeps plainlooking servants for Malachi. Lead
[204] him not into temptation. And her name is Ursula.
[206] Laughing again, he brought the mirror away from Stephen's peering eyes.
[208] --The rage of Caliban at not seeing his face in a mirror, he said. If
[209] Wilde were only alive to see you!
[211] Drawing back and pointing, Stephen said with bitterness:
[213] --It is a symbol of Irish art. The cracked looking-glass of a servant.
[215] Buck Mulligan suddenly linked his arm in Stephen's and walked with him
[216] round the tower, his razor and mirror clacking in the pocket where he had
[217] thrust them.
[219] --It's not fair to tease you like that, Kinch, is it? he said kindly. God
[220] knows you have more spirit than any of them.
[222] Parried again. He fears the lancet of my art as I fear that of his. The
[223] cold steelpen.
[225] --Cracked lookingglass of a servant! Tell that to the oxy chap downstairs
[226] and touch him for a guinea. He's stinking with money and thinks you're
[227] not a gentleman. His old fellow made his tin by selling jalap to Zulus or
[228] some bloody swindle or other. God, Kinch, if you and I could only work
[229] together we might do something for the island. Hellenise it.
[231] Cranly's arm. His arm.
[233] --And to think of your having to beg from these swine. I'm the only one
[234] that knows what you are. Why don't you trust me more? What have you up
[235] your nose against me? Is it Haines? If he makes any noise here I'll bring
[236] down Seymour and we'll give him a ragging worse than they gave Clive
[237] Kempthorpe.
[239] Young shouts of moneyed voices in Clive Kempthorpe's rooms. Palefaces:
[240] they hold their ribs with laughter, one clasping another. O, I shall
[241] expire! Break the news to her gently, Aubrey! I shall die! With slit
[242] ribbons of his shirt whipping the air he hops and hobbles round the
[243] table, with trousers down at heels, chased by Ades of Magdalen with the
[244] tailor's shears. A scared calf's face gilded with marmalade. I don't want
[245] to be debagged! Don't you play the giddy ox with me!
[247] Shouts from the open window startling evening in the quadrangle. A deaf
[248] gardener, aproned, masked with Matthew Arnold's face, pushes his mower on
[249] the sombre lawn watching narrowly the dancing motes of grasshalms.
[251] To ourselves ... new paganism ... omphalos.
[253] --Let him stay, Stephen said. There's nothing wrong with him except at
[254] night.
[256] --Then what is it? Buck Mulligan asked impatiently. Cough it up. I'm
[257] quite frank with you. What have you against me now?
[259] They halted, looking towards the blunt cape of Bray Head that lay on the
[260] water like the snout of a sleeping whale. Stephen freed his arm quietly.
[262] --Do you wish me to tell you? he asked.
[264] --Yes, what is it? Buck Mulligan answered. I don't remember anything.
[266] He looked in Stephen's face as he spoke. A light wind passed his brow,
[267] fanning softly his fair uncombed hair and stirring silver points of
[268] anxiety in his eyes.
[270] Stephen, depressed by his own voice, said:
[272] --Do you remember the first day I went to your house after my mother's
[273] death?
[275] Buck Mulligan frowned quickly and said:
[277] --What? Where? I can't remember anything. I remember only ideas and
[278] sensations. Why? What happened in the name of God?
[280] --You were making tea, Stephen said, and went across the landing to get
[281] more hot water. Your mother and some visitor came out of the drawingroom.
[282] She asked you who was in your room.
[284] --Yes? Buck Mulligan said. What did I say? I forget.
[286] --You said, Stephen answered, O, IT'S ONLY DEDALUS WHOSE MOTHER IS
[289] A flush which made him seem younger and more engaging rose to Buck
[290] Mulligan's cheek.
[292] --Did I say that? he asked. Well? What harm is that?
[294] He shook his constraint from him nervously.
[296] --And what is death, he asked, your mother's or yours or my own? You saw
[297] only your mother die. I see them pop off every day in the Mater and
[298] Richmond and cut up into tripes in the dissectingroom. It's a beastly
[299] thing and nothing else. It simply doesn't matter. You wouldn't kneel down
[300] to pray for your mother on her deathbed when she asked you. Why? Because
[301] you have the cursed jesuit strain in you, only it's injected the wrong
[302] way. To me it's all a mockery and beastly. Her cerebral lobes are not
[303] functioning. She calls the doctor sir Peter Teazle and picks buttercups
[304] off the quilt. Humour her till it's over. You crossed her last wish in
[305] death and yet you sulk with me because I don't whinge like some hired
[306] mute from Lalouette's. Absurd! I suppose I did say it. I didn't mean to
[307] offend the memory of your mother.
[309] He had spoken himself into boldness. Stephen, shielding the gaping wounds
[310] which the words had left in his heart, said very coldly:
[312] --I am not thinking of the offence to my mother.
[314] --Of what then? Buck Mulligan asked.
[316] --Of the offence to me, Stephen answered.
[318] Buck Mulligan swung round on his heel.
[320] --O, an impossible person! he exclaimed.
[322] He walked off quickly round the parapet. Stephen stood at his post,
[323] gazing over the calm sea towards the headland. Sea and headland now grew
[324] dim. Pulses were beating in his eyes, veiling their sight, and he felt
[325] the fever of his cheeks.
[327] A voice within the tower called loudly:
[329] --Are you up there, Mulligan?
[331] --I'm coming, Buck Mulligan answered.
[333] He turned towards Stephen and said:
[335] --Look at the sea. What does it care about offences? Chuck Loyola, Kinch,
[336] and come on down. The Sassenach wants his morning rashers.
[338] His head halted again for a moment at the top of the staircase, level
[339] with the roof:
[341] --Don't mope over it all day, he said. I'm inconsequent. Give up the
[342] moody brooding.
[344] His head vanished but the drone of his descending voice boomed out of the
[345] stairhead:
[353] Woodshadows floated silently by through the morning peace from the
[354] stairhead seaward where he gazed. Inshore and farther out the mirror of
[355] water whitened, spurned by lightshod hurrying feet. White breast of the
[356] dim sea. The twining stresses, two by two. A hand plucking the
[357] harpstrings, merging their twining chords. Wavewhite wedded words
[358] shimmering on the dim tide.
[360] A cloud began to cover the sun slowly, wholly, shadowing the bay in
[361] deeper green. It lay beneath him, a bowl of bitter waters. Fergus' song:
[362] I sang it alone in the house, holding down the long dark chords. Her door
[363] was open: she wanted to hear my music. Silent with awe and pity I went to
[364] her bedside. She was crying in her wretched bed. For those words,
[365] Stephen: love's bitter mystery.
[367] Where now?
[369] Her secrets: old featherfans, tasselled dancecards, powdered with musk, a
[370] gaud of amber beads in her locked drawer. A birdcage hung in the sunny
[371] window of her house when she was a girl. She heard old Royce sing in the
[372] pantomime of TURKO THE TERRIBLE and laughed with others when he sang:
[375] I AM THE BOY
[380] Phantasmal mirth, folded away: muskperfumed.
[386] Folded away in the memory of nature with her toys. Memories beset his
[387] brooding brain. Her glass of water from the kitchen tap when she had
[388] approached the sacrament. A cored apple, filled with brown sugar,
[389] roasting for her at the hob on a dark autumn evening. Her shapely
[390] fingernails reddened by the blood of squashed lice from the children's
[391] shirts.
[393] In a dream, silently, she had come to him, her wasted body within its
[394] loose graveclothes giving off an odour of wax and rosewood, her breath,
[395] bent over him with mute secret words, a faint odour of wetted ashes.
[397] Her glazing eyes, staring out of death, to shake and bend my soul. On me
[398] alone. The ghostcandle to light her agony. Ghostly light on the tortured
[399] face. Her hoarse loud breath rattling in horror, while all prayed on
[400] their knees. Her eyes on me to strike me down. LILIATA RUTILANTIUM TE
[403] Ghoul! Chewer of corpses!
[405] No, mother! Let me be and let me live.
[407] --Kinch ahoy!
[409] Buck Mulligan's voice sang from within the tower. It came nearer up the
[410] staircase, calling again. Stephen, still trembling at his soul's cry,
[411] heard warm running sunlight and in the air behind him friendly words.
[413] --Dedalus, come down, like a good mosey. Breakfast is ready. Haines is
[414] apologising for waking us last night. It's all right.
[416] --I'm coming, Stephen said, turning.
[418] --Do, for Jesus' sake, Buck Mulligan said. For my sake and for all our
[419] sakes.
[421] His head disappeared and reappeared.
[423] --I told him your symbol of Irish art. He says it's very clever. Touch
[424] him for a quid, will you? A guinea, I mean.
[426] --I get paid this morning, Stephen said.
[428] --The school kip? Buck Mulligan said. How much? Four quid? Lend us one.
[430] --If you want it, Stephen said.
[432] --Four shining sovereigns, Buck Mulligan cried with delight. We'll have a
[433] glorious drunk to astonish the druidy druids. Four omnipotent sovereigns.
[435] He flung up his hands and tramped down the stone stairs, singing out of
[436] tune with a Cockney accent:
[447] Warm sunshine merrying over the sea. The nickel shavingbowl shone,
[448] forgotten, on the parapet. Why should I bring it down? Or leave it there
[449] all day, forgotten friendship?
[451] He went over to it, held it in his hands awhile, feeling its coolness,
[452] smelling the clammy slaver of the lather in which the brush was stuck. So
[453] I carried the boat of incense then at Clongowes. I am another now and yet
[454] the same. A servant too. A server of a servant.
[456] In the gloomy domed livingroom of the tower Buck Mulligan's gowned form
[457] moved briskly to and fro about the hearth, hiding and revealing its
[458] yellow glow. Two shafts of soft daylight fell across the flagged floor
[459] from the high barbacans: and at the meeting of their rays a cloud of
[460] coalsmoke and fumes of fried grease floated, turning.
[462] --We'll be choked, Buck Mulligan said. Haines, open that door, will you?
[464] Stephen laid the shavingbowl on the locker. A tall figure rose from the
[465] hammock where it had been sitting, went to the doorway and pulled open
[466] the inner doors.
[468] --Have you the key? a voice asked.
[470] --Dedalus has it, Buck Mulligan said. Janey Mack, I'm choked!
[472] He howled, without looking up from the fire:
[474] --Kinch!
[476] --It's in the lock, Stephen said, coming forward.
[478] The key scraped round harshly twice and, when the heavy door had been set
[479] ajar, welcome light and bright air entered. Haines stood at the doorway,
[480] looking out. Stephen haled his upended valise to the table and sat down
[481] to wait. Buck Mulligan tossed the fry on to the dish beside him. Then he
[482] carried the dish and a large teapot over to the table, set them down
[483] heavily and sighed with relief.
[485] --I'm melting, he said, as the candle remarked when ... But, hush! Not a
[486] word more on that subject! Kinch, wake up! Bread, butter, honey. Haines,
[487] come in. The grub is ready. Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts.
[488] Where's the sugar? O, jay, there's no milk.
[490] Stephen fetched the loaf and the pot of honey and the buttercooler from
[491] the locker. Buck Mulligan sat down in a sudden pet.
[493] --What sort of a kip is this? he said. I told her to come after eight.
[495] --We can drink it black, Stephen said thirstily. There's a lemon in the
[496] locker.
[498] --O, damn you and your Paris fads! Buck Mulligan said. I want Sandycove
[499] milk.
[501] Haines came in from the doorway and said quietly:
[503] --That woman is coming up with the milk.
[505] --The blessings of God on you! Buck Mulligan cried, jumping up from his
[506] chair. Sit down. Pour out the tea there. The sugar is in the bag. Here, I
[507] can't go fumbling at the damned eggs.
[509] He hacked through the fry on the dish and slapped it out on three plates,
[510] saying:
[514] Haines sat down to pour out the tea.
[516] --I'm giving you two lumps each, he said. But, I say, Mulligan, you do
[517] make strong tea, don't you?
[519] Buck Mulligan, hewing thick slices from the loaf, said in an old woman's
[520] wheedling voice:
[522] --When I makes tea I makes tea, as old mother Grogan said. And when I
[523] makes water I makes water.
[525] --By Jove, it is tea, Haines said.
[527] Buck Mulligan went on hewing and wheedling:
[529] --SO I DO, MRS CAHILL, says she. BEGOB, MA'AM, says Mrs Cahill, GOD SEND
[532] He lunged towards his messmates in turn a thick slice of bread, impaled
[533] on his knife.
[535] --That's folk, he said very earnestly, for your book, Haines. Five lines
[536] of text and ten pages of notes about the folk and the fishgods of
[537] Dundrum. Printed by the weird sisters in the year of the big wind.
[539] He turned to Stephen and asked in a fine puzzled voice, lifting his
[540] brows:
[542] --Can you recall, brother, is mother Grogan's tea and water pot spoken of
[543] in the Mabinogion or is it in the Upanishads?
[545] --I doubt it, said Stephen gravely.
[547] --Do you now? Buck Mulligan said in the same tone. Your reasons, pray?
[549] --I fancy, Stephen said as he ate, it did not exist in or out of the
[550] Mabinogion. Mother Grogan was, one imagines, a kinswoman of Mary Ann.
[552] Buck Mulligan's face smiled with delight.
[554] --Charming! he said in a finical sweet voice, showing his white teeth and
[555] blinking his eyes pleasantly. Do you think she was? Quite charming!
[557] Then, suddenly overclouding all his features, he growled in a hoarsened
[558] rasping voice as he hewed again vigorously at the loaf:
[566] He crammed his mouth with fry and munched and droned.
[568] The doorway was darkened by an entering form.
[570] --The milk, sir!
[572] --Come in, ma'am, Mulligan said. Kinch, get the jug.
[574] An old woman came forward and stood by Stephen's elbow.
[576] --That's a lovely morning, sir, she said. Glory be to God.
[578] --To whom? Mulligan said, glancing at her. Ah, to be sure!
[580] Stephen reached back and took the milkjug from the locker.
[582] --The islanders, Mulligan said to Haines casually, speak frequently of
[583] the collector of prepuces.
[585] --How much, sir? asked the old woman.
[587] --A quart, Stephen said.
[589] He watched her pour into the measure and thence into the jug rich white
[590] milk, not hers. Old shrunken paps. She poured again a measureful and a
[591] tilly. Old and secret she had entered from a morning world, maybe a
[592] messenger. She praised the goodness of the milk, pouring it out.
[593] Crouching by a patient cow at daybreak in the lush field, a witch on her
[594] toadstool, her wrinkled fingers quick at the squirting dugs. They lowed
[595] about her whom they knew, dewsilky cattle. Silk of the kine and poor old
[596] woman, names given her in old times. A wandering crone, lowly form of an
[597] immortal serving her conqueror and her gay betrayer, their common
[598] cuckquean, a messenger from the secret morning. To serve or to upbraid,
[599] whether he could not tell: but scorned to beg her favour.
[601] --It is indeed, ma'am, Buck Mulligan said, pouring milk into their cups.
[603] --Taste it, sir, she said.
[605] He drank at her bidding.
[607] --If we could live on good food like that, he said to her somewhat
[608] loudly, we wouldn't have the country full of rotten teeth and rotten
[609] guts. Living in a bogswamp, eating cheap food and the streets paved with
[610] dust, horsedung and consumptives' spits.
[612] --Are you a medical student, sir? the old woman asked.
[614] --I am, ma'am, Buck Mulligan answered.
[616] --Look at that now, she said.
[618] Stephen listened in scornful silence. She bows her old head to a voice
[619] that speaks to her loudly, her bonesetter, her medicineman: me she
[620] slights. To the voice that will shrive and oil for the grave all there is
[621] of her but her woman's unclean loins, of man's flesh made not in God's
[622] likeness, the serpent's prey. And to the loud voice that now bids her be
[623] silent with wondering unsteady eyes.
[625] --Do you understand what he says? Stephen asked her.
[627] --Is it French you are talking, sir? the old woman said to Haines.
[629] Haines spoke to her again a longer speech, confidently.
[631] --Irish, Buck Mulligan said. Is there Gaelic on you?
[633] --I thought it was Irish, she said, by the sound of it. Are you from the
[634] west, sir?
[636] --I am an Englishman, Haines answered.
[638] --He's English, Buck Mulligan said, and he thinks we ought to speak Irish
[639] in Ireland.
[641] --Sure we ought to, the old woman said, and I'm ashamed I don't speak the
[642] language myself. I'm told it's a grand language by them that knows.
[644] --Grand is no name for it, said Buck Mulligan. Wonderful entirely. Fill
[645] us out some more tea, Kinch. Would you like a cup, ma'am?
[647] --No, thank you, sir, the old woman said, slipping the ring of the
[648] milkcan on her forearm and about to go.
[650] Haines said to her:
[652] --Have you your bill? We had better pay her, Mulligan, hadn't we?
[654] Stephen filled again the three cups.
[656] --Bill, sir? she said, halting. Well, it's seven mornings a pint at
[657] twopence is seven twos is a shilling and twopence over and these three
[658] mornings a quart at fourpence is three quarts is a shilling. That's a
[659] shilling and one and two is two and two, sir.
[661] Buck Mulligan sighed and, having filled his mouth with a crust thickly
[662] buttered on both sides, stretched forth his legs and began to search his
[663] trouser pockets.
[665] --Pay up and look pleasant, Haines said to him, smiling.
[667] Stephen filled a third cup, a spoonful of tea colouring faintly the thick
[668] rich milk. Buck Mulligan brought up a florin, twisted it round in his
[669] fingers and cried:
[671] --A miracle!
[673] He passed it along the table towards the old woman, saying:
[675] --Ask nothing more of me, sweet. All I can give you I give.
[677] Stephen laid the coin in her uneager hand.
[679] --We'll owe twopence, he said.
[681] --Time enough, sir, she said, taking the coin. Time enough. Good morning,
[682] sir.
[684] She curtseyed and went out, followed by Buck Mulligan's tender chant:
[691] He turned to Stephen and said:
[693] --Seriously, Dedalus. I'm stony. Hurry out to your school kip and bring
[694] us back some money. Today the bards must drink and junket. Ireland
[695] expects that every man this day will do his duty.
[697] --That reminds me, Haines said, rising, that I have to visit your
[698] national library today.
[700] --Our swim first, Buck Mulligan said.
[702] He turned to Stephen and asked blandly:
[704] --Is this the day for your monthly wash, Kinch?
[706] Then he said to Haines:
[708] --The unclean bard makes a point of washing once a month.
[710] --All Ireland is washed by the gulfstream, Stephen said as he let honey
[711] trickle over a slice of the loaf.
[713] Haines from the corner where he was knotting easily a scarf about the
[714] loose collar of his tennis shirt spoke:
[716] --I intend to make a collection of your sayings if you will let me.
[718] Speaking to me. They wash and tub and scrub. Agenbite of inwit.
[719] Conscience. Yet here's a spot.
[721] --That one about the cracked lookingglass of a servant being the symbol
[722] of Irish art is deuced good.
[724] Buck Mulligan kicked Stephen's foot under the table and said with warmth
[725] of tone:
[727] --Wait till you hear him on Hamlet, Haines.
[729] --Well, I mean it, Haines said, still speaking to Stephen. I was just
[730] thinking of it when that poor old creature came in.
[732] --Would I make any money by it? Stephen asked.
[734] Haines laughed and, as he took his soft grey hat from the holdfast of the
[735] hammock, said:
[737] --I don't know, I'm sure.
[739] He strolled out to the doorway. Buck Mulligan bent across to Stephen and
[740] said with coarse vigour:
[742] --You put your hoof in it now. What did you say that for?
[744] --Well? Stephen said. The problem is to get money. From whom? From the
[745] milkwoman or from him. It's a toss up, I think.
[747] --I blow him out about you, Buck Mulligan said, and then you come along
[748] with your lousy leer and your gloomy jesuit jibes.
[750] --I see little hope, Stephen said, from her or from him.
[752] Buck Mulligan sighed tragically and laid his hand on Stephen's arm.
[754] --From me, Kinch, he said.
[756] In a suddenly changed tone he added:
[758] --To tell you the God's truth I think you're right. Damn all else they
[759] are good for. Why don't you play them as I do? To hell with them all. Let
[760] us get out of the kip.
[762] He stood up, gravely ungirdled and disrobed himself of his gown, saying
[763] resignedly:
[765] --Mulligan is stripped of his garments.
[767] He emptied his pockets on to the table.
[769] --There's your snotrag, he said.
[771] And putting on his stiff collar and rebellious tie he spoke to them,
[772] chiding them, and to his dangling watchchain. His hands plunged and
[773] rummaged in his trunk while he called for a clean handkerchief. God,
[774] we'll simply have to dress the character. I want puce gloves and green
[775] boots. Contradiction. Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I
[776] contradict myself. Mercurial Malachi. A limp black missile flew out of
[777] his talking hands.
[779] --And there's your Latin quarter hat, he said.
[781] Stephen picked it up and put it on. Haines called to them from the
[782] doorway:
[784] --Are you coming, you fellows?
[786] --I'm ready, Buck Mulligan answered, going towards the door. Come out,
[787] Kinch. You have eaten all we left, I suppose. Resigned he passed out with
[788] grave words and gait, saying, wellnigh with sorrow:
[790] --And going forth he met Butterly.
[792] Stephen, taking his ashplant from its leaningplace, followed them out
[793] and, as they went down the ladder, pulled to the slow iron door and
[794] locked it. He put the huge key in his inner pocket.
[796] At the foot of the ladder Buck Mulligan asked:
[798] --Did you bring the key?
[800] --I have it, Stephen said, preceding them.
[802] He walked on. Behind him he heard Buck Mulligan club with his heavy
[803] bathtowel the leader shoots of ferns or grasses.
[805] --Down, sir! How dare you, sir!
[807] Haines asked:
[809] --Do you pay rent for this tower?
[811] --Twelve quid, Buck Mulligan said.
[813] --To the secretary of state for war, Stephen added over his shoulder.
[815] They halted while Haines surveyed the tower and said at last:
[817] --Rather bleak in wintertime, I should say. Martello you call it?
[819] --Billy Pitt had them built, Buck Mulligan said, when the French were on
[820] the sea. But ours is the OMPHALOS.
[822] --What is your idea of Hamlet? Haines asked Stephen.
[824] --No, no, Buck Mulligan shouted in pain. I'm not equal to Thomas Aquinas
[825] and the fifty-five reasons he has made out to prop it up. Wait till I have
[826] a few pints in me first.
[828] He turned to Stephen, saying, as he pulled down neatly the peaks of his
[829] primrose waistcoat:
[831] --You couldn't manage it under three pints, Kinch, could you?
[833] --It has waited so long, Stephen said listlessly, it can wait longer.
[835] --You pique my curiosity, Haines said amiably. Is it some paradox?
[837] --Pooh! Buck Mulligan said. We have grown out of Wilde and paradoxes.
[838] It's quite simple. He proves by algebra that Hamlet's grandson is
[839] Shakespeare's grandfather and that he himself is the ghost of his own
[840] father.
[842] --What? Haines said, beginning to point at Stephen. He himself?
[844] Buck Mulligan slung his towel stolewise round his neck and, bending in
[845] loose laughter, said to Stephen's ear:
[847] --O, shade of Kinch the elder! Japhet in search of a father!
[849] --We're always tired in the morning, Stephen said to Haines. And it is
[850] rather long to tell.
[852] Buck Mulligan, walking forward again, raised his hands.
[854] --The sacred pint alone can unbind the tongue of Dedalus, he said.
[856] --I mean to say, Haines explained to Stephen as they followed, this tower
[857] and these cliffs here remind me somehow of Elsinore. THAT BEETLES O'ER
[860] Buck Mulligan turned suddenly. for an instant towards Stephen but did not
[861] speak. In the bright silent instant Stephen saw his own image in cheap
[862] dusty mourning between their gay attires.
[864] --It's a wonderful tale, Haines said, bringing them to halt again.
[866] Eyes, pale as the sea the wind had freshened, paler, firm and prudent.
[867] The seas' ruler, he gazed southward over the bay, empty save for the
[868] smokeplume of the mailboat vague on the bright skyline and a sail tacking
[869] by the Muglins.
[871] --I read a theological interpretation of it somewhere, he said bemused.
[872] The Father and the Son idea. The Son striving to be atoned with the
[873] Father.
[875] Buck Mulligan at once put on a blithe broadly smiling face. He looked at
[876] them, his wellshaped mouth open happily, his eyes, from which he had
[877] suddenly withdrawn all shrewd sense, blinking with mad gaiety. He moved a
[878] doll's head to and fro, the brims of his Panama hat quivering, and began
[879] to chant in a quiet happy foolish voice:
[888] He held up a forefinger of warning.
[897] He tugged swiftly at Stephen's ashplant in farewell and, running forward
[898] to a brow of the cliff, fluttered his hands at his sides like fins or
[899] wings of one about to rise in the air, and chanted:
[908] He capered before them down towards the forty-foot hole, fluttering his
[909] winglike hands, leaping nimbly, Mercury's hat quivering in the fresh wind
[910] that bore back to them his brief birdsweet cries.
[912] Haines, who had been laughing guardedly, walked on beside Stephen and
[913] said:
[915] --We oughtn't to laugh, I suppose. He's rather blasphemous. I'm not a
[916] believer myself, that is to say. Still his gaiety takes the harm out of
[917] it somehow, doesn't it? What did he call it? Joseph the Joiner?
[919] --The ballad of joking Jesus, Stephen answered.
[921] --O, Haines said, you have heard it before?
[923] --Three times a day, after meals, Stephen said drily.
[925] --You're not a believer, are you? Haines asked. I mean, a believer in the
[926] narrow sense of the word. Creation from nothing and miracles and a
[927] personal God.
[929] --There's only one sense of the word, it seems to me, Stephen said.
[931] Haines stopped to take out a smooth silver case in which twinkled a green
[932] stone. He sprang it open with his thumb and offered it.
[934] --Thank you, Stephen said, taking a cigarette.
[936] Haines helped himself and snapped the case to. He put it back in his
[937] sidepocket and took from his waistcoatpocket a nickel tinderbox, sprang
[938] it open too, and, having lit his cigarette, held the flaming spunk
[939] towards Stephen in the shell of his hands.
[941] --Yes, of course, he said, as they went on again. Either you believe or
[942] you don't, isn't it? Personally I couldn't stomach that idea of a
[943] personal God. You don't stand for that, I suppose?
[945] --You behold in me, Stephen said with grim displeasure, a horrible
[946] example of free thought.
[948] He walked on, waiting to be spoken to, trailing his ashplant by his side.
[949] Its ferrule followed lightly on the path, squealing at his heels. My
[950] familiar, after me, calling, Steeeeeeeeeeeephen! A wavering line along
[951] the path. They will walk on it tonight, coming here in the dark. He wants
[952] that key. It is mine. I paid the rent. Now I eat his salt bread. Give him
[953] the key too. All. He will ask for it. That was in his eyes.
[955] --After all, Haines began ...
[957] Stephen turned and saw that the cold gaze which had measured him was not
[958] all unkind.
[960] --After all, I should think you are able to free yourself. You are your
[961] own master, it seems to me.
[963] --I am a servant of two masters, Stephen said, an English and an Italian.
[965] --Italian? Haines said.
[967] A crazy queen, old and jealous. Kneel down before me.
[969] --And a third, Stephen said, there is who wants me for odd jobs.
[971] --Italian? Haines said again. What do you mean?
[973] --The imperial British state, Stephen answered, his colour rising, and
[974] the holy Roman catholic and apostolic church.
[976] Haines detached from his underlip some fibres of tobacco before he spoke.
[978] --I can quite understand that, he said calmly. An Irishman must think
[979] like that, I daresay. We feel in England that we have treated you rather
[980] unfairly. It seems history is to blame.
[982] The proud potent titles clanged over Stephen's memory the triumph of
[984] the slow growth and change of rite and dogma like his own rare thoughts,
[985] a chemistry of stars. Symbol of the apostles in the mass for pope
[986] Marcellus, the voices blended, singing alone loud in affirmation: and
[987] behind their chant the vigilant angel of the church militant disarmed and
[988] menaced her heresiarchs. A horde of heresies fleeing with mitres awry:
[989] Photius and the brood of mockers of whom Mulligan was one, and Arius,
[990] warring his life long upon the consubstantiality of the Son with the
[991] Father, and Valentine, spurning Christ's terrene body, and the subtle
[992] African heresiarch Sabellius who held that the Father was Himself His own
[993] Son. Words Mulligan had spoken a moment since in mockery to the stranger.
[994] Idle mockery. The void awaits surely all them that weave the wind: a
[995] menace, a disarming and a worsting from those embattled angels of the
[996] church, Michael's host, who defend her ever in the hour of conflict with
[997] their lances and their shields.
[999] Hear, hear! Prolonged applause. ZUT! NOM DE DIEU!
[1001] --Of course I'm a Britisher, Haines's voice said, and I feel as one. I
[1002] don't want to see my country fall into the hands of German jews either.
[1003] That's our national problem, I'm afraid, just now.
[1005] Two men stood at the verge of the cliff, watching: businessman, boatman.
[1007] --She's making for Bullock harbour.
[1009] The boatman nodded towards the north of the bay with some disdain.
[1011] --There's five fathoms out there, he said. It'll be swept up that way
[1012] when the tide comes in about one. It's nine days today.
[1014] The man that was drowned. A sail veering about the blank bay waiting for
[1015] a swollen bundle to bob up, roll over to the sun a puffy face, saltwhite.
[1016] Here I am.
[1018] They followed the winding path down to the creek. Buck Mulligan stood on
[1019] a stone, in shirtsleeves, his unclipped tie rippling over his shoulder. A
[1020] young man clinging to a spur of rock near him, moved slowly frogwise his
[1021] green legs in the deep jelly of the water.
[1023] --Is the brother with you, Malachi?
[1025] --Down in Westmeath. With the Bannons.
[1027] --Still there? I got a card from Bannon. Says he found a sweet young
[1028] thing down there. Photo girl he calls her.
[1030] --Snapshot, eh? Brief exposure.
[1032] Buck Mulligan sat down to unlace his boots. An elderly man shot up near
[1033] the spur of rock a blowing red face. He scrambled up by the stones, water
[1034] glistening on his pate and on its garland of grey hair, water rilling
[1035] over his chest and paunch and spilling jets out of his black sagging
[1036] loincloth.
[1038] Buck Mulligan made way for him to scramble past and, glancing at Haines
[1039] and Stephen, crossed himself piously with his thumbnail at brow and lips
[1040] and breastbone.
[1042] --Seymour's back in town, the young man said, grasping again his spur of
[1043] rock. Chucked medicine and going in for the army.
[1045] --Ah, go to God! Buck Mulligan said.
[1047] --Going over next week to stew. You know that red Carlisle girl, Lily?
[1049] --Yes.
[1051] --Spooning with him last night on the pier. The father is rotto with
[1052] money.
[1054] --Is she up the pole?
[1056] --Better ask Seymour that.
[1058] --Seymour a bleeding officer! Buck Mulligan said.
[1060] He nodded to himself as he drew off his trousers and stood up, saying
[1061] tritely:
[1063] --Redheaded women buck like goats.
[1065] He broke off in alarm, feeling his side under his flapping shirt.
[1067] --My twelfth rib is gone, he cried. I'm the UBERMENSCH. Toothless Kinch
[1068] and I, the supermen.
[1070] He struggled out of his shirt and flung it behind him to where his
[1071] clothes lay.
[1073] --Are you going in here, Malachi?
[1075] --Yes. Make room in the bed.
[1077] The young man shoved himself backward through the water and reached the
[1078] middle of the creek in two long clean strokes. Haines sat down on a
[1079] stone, smoking.
[1081] --Are you not coming in? Buck Mulligan asked.
[1083] --Later on, Haines said. Not on my breakfast.
[1085] Stephen turned away.
[1087] --I'm going, Mulligan, he said.
[1089] --Give us that key, Kinch, Buck Mulligan said, to keep my chemise flat.
[1091] Stephen handed him the key. Buck Mulligan laid it across his heaped
[1092] clothes.
[1094] --And twopence, he said, for a pint. Throw it there.
[1096] Stephen threw two pennies on the soft heap. Dressing, undressing. Buck
[1097] Mulligan erect, with joined hands before him, said solemnly:
[1099] --He who stealeth from the poor lendeth to the Lord. Thus spake
[1100] Zarathustra.
[1102] His plump body plunged.
[1104] --We'll see you again, Haines said, turning as Stephen walked up the path
[1105] and smiling at wild Irish.
[1107] Horn of a bull, hoof of a horse, smile of a Saxon.
[1109] --The Ship, Buck Mulligan cried. Half twelve.
[1111] --Good, Stephen said.
[1113] He walked along the upwardcurving path.
[1121] The priest's grey nimbus in a niche where he dressed discreetly. I will
[1122] not sleep here tonight. Home also I cannot go.
[1124] A voice, sweettoned and sustained, called to him from the sea. Turning
[1125] the curve he waved his hand. It called again. A sleek brown head, a
[1126] seal's, far out on the water, round.
[1128] Usurper.

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