Episode 11: Sirens (Literary technique: Fuga per canonem (fugue or polyphony by rule: weaving of various voices and motifs in counterpoint to one another). Art: Music. Time: 38 40 pm. Place: Ormond Hotel


The citizen sends Garryowen in pursuit



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The citizen sends Garryowen in pursuit.
You never saw the like of it in all your born puff. Gob, if he got that

lottery ticket on the side of his poll he'd remember the gold cup,

he would so, but begob the citizen would have been lagged for assault

and battery and Joe for aiding and abetting. The jarvey saved his life

by furious driving as sure as God made Moses. What? O, Jesus, he did.

And he let a volley of oaths after him.
--Did I kill him, says he, or what?
And he shouting to the bloody dog:
--After him, Garry! After him, boy!
And the last we saw was the bloody car rounding the corner and old

sheepsface on it gesticulating and the bloody mongrel after it with his

lugs back for all he was bloody well worth to tear him limb from limb.

Hundred to five! Jesus, he took the value of it out of him, I promise you.
Parody 30: In the style of biblical prose.
When, lo, there came about them all a great brightness and they

beheld the chariot wherein He stood ascend to heaven. And they beheld

Him in the chariot, clothed upon in the glory of the brightness, having

raiment as of the sun, fair as the moon and terrible that for awe they

durst not look upon Him. And there came a voice out of heaven, calling:

ELIJAH! ELIJAH! And He answered with a main cry: ABBA! ADONAI! And they

beheld Him even Him, ben Bloom Elijah, amid clouds of angels ascend

to the glory of the brightness at an angle of fortyfive degrees over

Donohoe's in Little Green street like a shot off a shovel.
Donohoe’s pub was at 4-5 Green St. Little, street running south at a right angle from Little Britain St.
Commentary
Takes its name from a gigantic one-eyed savage known as the Cyclops. When Ulysses and his men get trapped in the cave of the Cyclops, who threatens to kill and eat them, U. cleverly finds a way to escape with his men. In this chapter, the counterpart of the Cyclops is a myopic, rapidly nationalistic, virulently anti-Semitic drunkard known as the Citizen. Caught in the pub, which takes the place of Homer’s cave, Bloom is scorned for his Jewishness by the Citizen and the narrator, but in a rare moment of self-assertion, he denounces the persecution of his race. Just as Ulysses makes his escape while taunting the Cyclops, so does Bloom get away in the very act of infuriating the Citizen by defiantly proclaiming that even Christ was a Jew.
Joyce combines features of Homer’s Polyphemos and a real-life Irishman to create the myopic, xenophobic, rapidly nationalistic Citizen whose contempt for Bloom is shared by the narrator. Citizen is based on the one-time shot putter eager to promote Irish sport, Michael Cusack, founder of the Gaelic Athletic Association, who loathed “imported” manners and customs.
Citizen sees nothing of value in anything that is not purely and essentially Irish in his sense of the word that makes no room for Bloom. Narrator contemptous for Bloom’s insistence on seeing things from different viewpoints. Just as Ulysses fights Polyphemos with his words and his brain, B. also takes on the Citizen:

  • Bloom uses his “knock-me-down” cigar the way U. uses his sharpened stake.

  • With Ulyssean prudence, B takes a cigar instead of a drink.

B. openly defies the Citizen’s rapid jingoism and anti-Semitism.
Note the irony: Although there to meet Martin Cunningham on behalf of Paddy Digham’s widow, his motives are misconstrued—accused of “defrauding widows and orphans”/suspected of having won a 20-to-one bet at the Gold Cup Race and of hiding his winnings so that he will not have to buy drinks for the spongers at the pub/his manhood is called into question.
In the myopic view of the Citizen, an Irish Jew is a contradiction in terms.
In the face of this contempt, Bloom defiantly proclaims his Jewishness, denouncing persecution and hatred. He claims connection to a “race . . . that is hated and persecuted.”
Although supposedly a reincarnation of Ulysses, his gospel of love, is the gospel of Christ.
Just as Ulysses goads Polyphemos during his escape, so does B goad the citizen as he makes his getaway from the pub, and gets threatened with a would-be crucifixion. He reminds the Citizen that Christ was “a Jew like me” and thereby infuriates the Citizen. Reanacting the rage of Polyphemos, the citizen throws at the departing Bloom a biscuit box in place of a boulder.
Threatening to crucify Bloom for using the name of Jesus, the Citizen thereby threatens to reenact the crucifixion, and thus ironically to confirm B as a Christ figure.
* * *
Narration: interpolated passages—32 in all—break up the tone and style of the narrative. Narrator colloquially talks his way through the chapter; passages written in a variety of styles meant to parody particular kinds of writing. Continues Joyce’s quest to find new perspective on the action.


  • Parodist clearly a writer, not a talker.

  • Parodist offers yet another perspective: when narrator mocks a Jewish merchant for demanding payment of a debt, the parodist apes the formal language of a lawsuit, comically overstating the gravity of the debt.

  • To reveal the fatuity of Irish revivalism, the parodist reconstructs the contemporary figures in this chapter as gigantic heroes of medieval epic written in “translatorese.”

Pub=”shining palace” in a lovely land. Contrast between the dead language of translators and the living language of the novel, the language spoken by contemporary men and women of Ireland. Gigantic heroes of the revivalist are gigantic balloon to be popped.
Parodist takes aim at patriotism, romantic fantasy, and sentimentality.


  • Would-be newspaper report on Garryowen, the Citizen’s dog, who can recite verse that sounds like Old Irish poetry, implying that Old Irish poetry sounds like a growling dog.

  • Mocks the legend of Robert Emmet, the doomed martyr to Irish Nationalism, and E’s last farewell to his fiance=execution becomes sentimental farce.

  • Inflation drives most of the parodies; simple actions or statements are recast in the grand old light of Irish legend or blown up into major events:




    1. Alf Bergan = “godlike messenger . . . radiant as the eye of heaven.”

    2. When the Citizen demands that the trees of Ireland be saved, the parodist reports on a grand wedding of a forest ranger with Miss Fir Conifer of Pine Valley.

    3. When Martin Cunningham says “God bless all here” as he orders drinks, the parodist describes a vast procession of deacons, abbots, monks, and so on all to bless those in the pub.

    4. When the Citizen throws the biscuit box at Bloom, the parodist describes a catastrophe equal to an earthquake.

Bloom not unscathed: mocked for his disquisition on the hanged man’s erection as a distinguished German scientist. When Bloom advocates love as an alternative to hatred and persecution, the parodist mockingly pretends that love is universal. “God loves everybody” refuted by Bob Doran who called God a “bloody ruffian” for taking the life of Paddy Doran.


Parodist raised question: can Bloom’s declaration that love is essential to life withstand the parodist’s withering blast of sarcasm?


  • Unlike the Citizen, Bloom doesn’t blind himself to anything, including the nightmare of history.

  • Bloom manifest his sincerity in the simplicity and bluntness of his language.

  • If love is the only alternative to force and hatred, it will prevail against everything, including ridicule.

Final parody mocks our impulse to see Bloom as the reincarnation of Elijah, heroically speaking truth to power.


Having seen Bloom stand up to the Citizen, we may conclude that the modern Elijah is not the streetwise preacher advertised by the throwaway but Leopold Bloom. But in the parodist account, B. is borne to heaven as Elijah, retaining his earthbound form, like a bit of dirt thrown by a shovel.
Notes on Ulysses: Wanderings of Ulysses—Episodes 13-14

Episode 13: Nausicaa (Literary technique: Tumescence, detumescence). Art: Painting. Time: 8.00-9.00 pm. Place: Sandymount Strand.
Joyce dubbed the style of the first half of the section “namby-pamby jammy marmalady drawersy style with effects of incense, mariolatry, masturbations, stewed cockles, painter’s palette, chit-chat, circumlocution, etc., etc.,” conforming with the purple, sentimental prose of an Edwardian lady’s magazine. It is counterpointed by the “demystifying” prose of Bloom’s interior monologue. Tumescence/detumescence: mirrors the ascent of Bloom’s organism (soaring rocket), followed by the physical deflation that follows. Gerty’s blue blouse and navy dress make her identifiable as a Mary figure, and Mariolatry, the worship of the Virgin, is suggested in the episode. Gerty=religious icon. Background: temperance retreat at the church of Mary, Star of the Sea, with the hymns to the Virgin conflated with the description of the exhibitionist Gerty.
It was the thinly veiled masturbation here that led to the famous obscenity trial in New York in 1920, which led to Ulysses being banned as obscene in the U.S. and soon after in the U.K. (remaining in place until 1933).
Episode 13 occurs a full three hours after episode 13. After arriving at Newbridge Ave. shortly before 6.00, Bloom spends about two hours in the company of the bereaved Dignam family, helping with the estate. After completing the business, Bloom does not return to the city with Cunningham an the others, but walks to the beach by the shortest route, via Leahy’s Terrace (passing the priest’s house at No. 3). Is his delay because he does not want to confront Molly still awake? Bloom urinates “by the wall coming out of Dignam’s” (prefiguring his final final urination of the day near the wall of his own house.
Bloom is now exactly where Stephen was in the morning, with several resonances connecting the episodes: If Stephen with his ash-plant tries and fails to write a poem, Bloom also tries to write with a stick “I Am A.” He also finds some scraps of paper that may be Stephen’s.
The girls in order to get the pushcar on and off the beach need a ramp rather than steps like those at Leahy’s Terrace (“it was a long way along the strand to where there was the place to push up the pushcar”). Why have them come so far?--Joyce needs them near Bloom and the Star of the Sea.
Bloom returns to the city by the Sandymount tram, which would have dropped him very close to the main entrance of the maternity hospital.
Opens:
The summer evening had begun to fold the world in its mysterious

embrace. Far away in the west the sun was setting and the last glow of all

too fleeting day lingered lovingly on sea and strand, on the proud

promontory of dear old Howth guarding as ever the waters of the bay, on

the weedgrown rocks along Sandymount shore and, last but not least, on the

quiet church whence there streamed forth at times upon the stillness the

voice of prayer to her who is in her pure radiance a beacon ever to the

stormtossed heart of man, Mary, star of the sea.
The three girl friends were seated on the rocks, enjoying the evening

scene and the air which was fresh but not too chilly. Many a time and oft

were they wont to come there to that favourite nook to have a cosy chat

beside the sparkling waves and discuss matters feminine, Cissy Caffrey and

Edy Boardman with the baby in the pushcar and Tommy and Jacky

Caffrey, two little curlyheaded boys, dressed in sailor suits with caps to

match and the name H.M.S. Belleisle printed on both. For Tommy and

Jacky Caffrey were twins, scarce four years old and very noisy and spoiled

twins sometimes but for all that darling little fellows with bright merry

faces and endearing ways about them. They were dabbling in the sand with

their spades and buckets, building castles as children do, or playing with

their big coloured ball, happy as the day was long. And Edy Boardman was

rocking the chubby baby to and fro in the pushcar while that young

gentleman fairly chuckled with delight. He was but eleven months and nine

days old and, though still a tiny toddler, was just beginning to lisp his

first babyish words. Cissy Caffrey bent over to him to tease his fat

little plucks and the dainty dimple in his chin.
Three girlfriends: Gerty MacDowell, Edy Boardman, Cissy Caffrey, along with Tommy and Jacky Caffrey and baby Boardman. Sunset on 16 June 1904: 8.27 pm. The boys fight over their sandcastle, and Gerty is finally introduced:
--Now, baby, Cissy Caffrey said. Say out big, big. I want a drink of

water.
And baby prattled after her:
--A jink a jink a jawbo.
Cissy Caffrey cuddled the wee chap for she was awfully fond of children,

so patient with little sufferers and Tommy Caffrey could never be got to

take his castor oil unless it was Cissy Caffrey that held his nose and

promised him the scatty heel of the loaf or brown bread with golden syrup

on. What a persuasive power that girl had! But to be sure baby Boardman

was as good as gold, a perfect little dote in his new fancy bib. None of

your spoilt beauties, Flora MacFlimsy sort, was Cissy Caffrey.

A truerhearted lass never drew the breath of life, always with a laugh in

her gipsylike eyes and a frolicsome word on her cherryripe red lips, a

girl lovable in the extreme. And Edy Boardman laughed too at the quaint

language of little brother.
But just then there was a slight altercation between Master Tommy

and Master Jacky. Boys will be boys and our two twins were no exception

to this golden rule. The apple of discord was a certain castle of sand

which Master Jacky had built and Master Tommy would have it right go wrong

that it was to be architecturally improved by a frontdoor like the

Martello tower had. But if Master Tommy was headstrong Master Jacky was

selfwilled too and, true to the maxim that every little Irishman's house

is his castle, he fell upon his hated rival and to such purpose that the

wouldbe assailant came to grief and (alas to relate!) the coveted castle

too. Needless to say the cries of discomfited Master Tommy drew the

attention of the girl friends.
--Come here, Tommy, his sister called imperatively. At once! And you,

Jacky, for shame to throw poor Tommy in the dirty sand. Wait till I catch

you for that.
His eyes misty with unshed tears Master Tommy came at her call for

their big sister's word was law with the twins. And in a sad plight he was

too after his misadventure. His little man-o'-war top and unmentionables

were full of sand but Cissy was a past mistress in the art of smoothing

over life's tiny troubles and very quickly not one speck of sand was

to be seen on his smart little suit. Still the blue eyes were glistening

with hot tears that would well up so she kissed away the hurtness and

shook her hand at Master Jacky the culprit and said if she was near

him she wouldn't be far from him, her eyes dancing in admonition.
--Nasty bold Jacky! she cried.
She put an arm round the little mariner and coaxed winningly:
--What's your name? Butter and cream?
--Tell us who is your sweetheart, spoke Edy Boardman. Is Cissy your

sweetheart?
--Nao, tearful Tommy said.
--Is Edy Boardman your sweetheart? Cissy queried.
--Nao, Tommy said.
--I know, Edy Boardman said none too amiably with an arch glance from

her shortsighted eyes. I know who is Tommy's sweetheart. Gerty is

Tommy's sweetheart.
--Nao, Tommy said on the verge of tears.
Cissy's quick motherwit guessed what was amiss and she whispered

to Edy Boardman to take him there behind the pushcar where the

gentleman couldn't see and to mind he didn't wet his new tan shoes.
But who was Gerty?
Gerty MacDowell who was seated near her companions, lost in

thought, gazing far away into the distance was, in very truth, as fair a

specimen of winsome Irish girlhood as one could wish to see. She was

pronounced beautiful by all who knew her though, as folks often said, she

was more a Giltrap than a MacDowell. Her figure was slight and graceful,

inclining even to fragility but those iron jelloids she had been taking of

late had done her a world of good much better than the Widow Welch's

female pills and she was much better of those discharges she used to get

and that tired feeling. The waxen pallor of her face was almost spiritual

in its ivorylike purity though her rosebud mouth was a genuine Cupid's

bow, Greekly perfect. Her hands were of finely veined alabaster

with tapering fingers and as white as lemonjuice and queen of ointments

could make them though it was not true that she used to wear kid gloves

in bed or take a milk footbath either. Bertha Supple told that once

to Edy Boardman, a deliberate lie, when she was black out at daggers

drawn with Gerty (the girl chums had of course their little tiffs

from time to time like the rest of mortals) and she told her not to

let on whatever she did that it was her that told her or she'd never

speak to her again. No. Honour where honour is due. There was an

innate refinement, a languid queenly HAUTEUR about Gerty which

was unmistakably evidenced in her delicate hands and higharched instep.

Had kind fate but willed her to be born a gentlewoman of high degree in

her own right and had she only received the benefit of a good education

Gerty MacDowell might easily have held her own beside any lady in the

land and have seen herself exquisitely gowned with jewels on her brow and

patrician suitors at her feet vying with one another to pay their devoirs

to her. Mayhap it was this, the love that might have been, that lent to

her softlyfeatured face at whiles a look, tense with suppressed meaning,

that imparted a strange yearning tendency to the beautiful eyes, a charm

few could resist. Why have women such eyes of witchery? Gerty's were of

the bluest Irish blue, set off by lustrous lashes and dark expressive

brows. Time was when those brows were not so silkily seductive. It was

Madame Vera Verity, directress of the Woman Beautiful page of the Princess

Novelette, who had first advised her to try eyebrowleine which gave that

haunting expression to the eyes, so becoming in leaders of fashion, and

she had never regretted it. Then there was blushing scientifically cured

and how to be tall increase your height and you have a beautiful face but

your nose? That would suit Mrs Dignam because she had a button one. But

Gerty's crowning glory was her wealth of wonderful hair. It was dark brown

with a natural wave in it. She had cut it that very morning on account

of the new moon and it nestled about her pretty head in a profusion of

luxuriant clusters and pared her nails too, Thursday for wealth. And just

now at Edy's words as a telltale flush, delicate as the faintest

rosebloom, crept into her cheeks she looked so lovely in her sweet girlish

shyness that of a surety God's fair land of Ireland did not hold

her equal.
For an instant she was silent with rather sad downcast eyes. She was

about to retort but something checked the words on her tongue. Inclination

prompted her to speak out: dignity told her to be silent. The pretty lips

pouted awhile but then she glanced up and broke out into a joyous little

laugh which had in it all the freshness of a young May morning. She knew

right well, no-one better, what made squinty Edy say that because of him

cooling in his attentions when it was simply a lovers' quarrel. As per

usual somebody's nose was out of joint about the boy that had the bicycle

off the London bridge road always riding up and down in front of her

window. Only now his father kept him in in the evenings studying

hard to get an exhibition in the intermediate that was on and he was

going to go to Trinity college to study for a doctor when he left

the high school like his brother W. E. Wylie who was racing in the

bicycle races in Trinity college university. Little recked he perhaps

for what she felt, that dull aching void in her heart sometimes,

piercing to the core. Yet he was young and perchance he might

learn to love her in time. They were protestants in his family

and of course Gerty knew Who came first and after Him the Blessed

Virgin and then Saint Joseph. But he was undeniably handsome with an

exquisite nose and he was what he looked, every inch a gentleman, the

shape of his head too at the back without his cap on that she would know

anywhere something off the common and the way he turned the bicycle at

the lamp with his hands off the bars and also the nice perfume of those

good cigarettes and besides they were both of a size too he and she and

that was why Edy Boardman thought she was so frightfully clever because

he didn't go and ride up and down in front of her bit of a garden.
Gerty was dressed simply but with the instinctive taste of a votary of

Dame Fashion for she felt that there was just a might that he might be

out. A neat blouse of electric blue selftinted by dolly dyes (because it

was expected in the LADY'S PICTORIAL that electric blue would be worn)

with a smart vee opening down to the division and kerchief pocket

(in which she always kept a piece of cottonwool scented with her

favourite perfume because the handkerchief spoiled the sit) and a

navy threequarter skirt cut to the stride showed off her slim graceful

figure to perfection. She wore a coquettish little love of a hat of

wideleaved nigger straw contrast trimmed with an underbrim of eggblue

chenille and at the side a butterfly bow of silk to tone. All Tuesday

week afternoon she was hunting to match that chenille but at last

she found what she wanted at Clery's summer sales, the very it, slightly

shopsoiled but you would never notice, seven fingers two and a penny. She

did it up all by herself and what joy was hers when she tried it on then,

smiling at the lovely reflection which the mirror gave back to her!

And when she put it on the waterjug to keep the shape she knew that that

would take the shine out of some people she knew. Her shoes were the

newest thing in footwear (Edy Boardman prided herself that she was very

PETITE but she never had a foot like Gerty MacDowell, a five, and never

would ash, oak or elm) with patent toecaps and just one smart buckle over

her higharched instep. Her wellturned ankle displayed its perfect

proportions beneath her skirt and just the proper amount and no more of

her shapely limbs encased in finespun hose with highspliced heels and wide

garter tops. As for undies they were Gerty's chief care and who that knows

the fluttering hopes and fears of sweet seventeen (though Gerty would

never see seventeen again) can find it in his heart to blame her? She had

four dinky sets with awfully pretty stitchery, three garments and

nighties extra, and each set slotted with different coloured ribbons,

rosepink, pale blue, mauve and peagreen, and she aired them herself

and blued them when they came home from the wash and ironed them

and she had a brickbat to keep the iron on because she wouldn't trust

those washerwomen as far as she'd see them scorching the things.

She was wearing the blue for luck, hoping against hope, her own

colour and lucky too for a bride to have a bit of blue somewhere

on her because the green she wore that day week brought grief because

his father brought him in to study for the intermediate exhibition

and because she thought perhaps he might be out because when she was

dressing that morning she nearly slipped up the old pair on her inside out

and that was for luck and lovers' meeting if you put those things on

inside out or if they got untied that he was thinking about you so long

as it wasn't of a Friday.
And yet and yet! That strained look on her face! A gnawing sorrow is

there all the time. Her very soul is in her eyes and she would give worlds

to be in the privacy of her own familiar chamber where, giving way to

tears, she could have a good cry and relieve her pentup feelingsthough not

too much because she knew how to cry nicely before the mirror. You are

lovely, Gerty, it said. The paly light of evening falls upon a face

infinitely sad and wistful. Gerty MacDowell yearns in vain. Yes, she had

known from the very first that her daydream of a marriage has been

arranged and the weddingbells ringing for Mrs Reggy Wylie T. C. D.

(because the one who married the elder brother would be Mrs Wylie) and in

the fashionable intelligence Mrs Gertrude Wylie was wearing a sumptuous

confection of grey trimmed with expensive blue fox was not to be. He was

too young to understand. He would not believe in love, a woman's

birthright. The night of the party long ago in Stoer's (he was still in

short trousers) when they were alone and he stole an arm round her waist

she went white to the very lips. He called her little one in a strangely

husky voice and snatched a half kiss (the first!) but it was only the end

of her nose and then he hastened from the room with a remark about

refreshments. Impetuous fellow! Strength of character had never been Reggy

Wylie's strong point and he who would woo and win Gerty MacDowell must be

a man among men. But waiting, always waiting to be asked and it was leap

year too and would soon be over. No prince charming is her beau ideal to

lay a rare and wondrous love at her feet but rather a manly man with a

strong quiet face who had not found his ideal, perhaps his hair slightly

flecked with grey, and who would understand, take her in his sheltering

arms, strain her to him in all the strength of his deep passionate nature

and comfort her with a long long kiss. It would be like heaven. For such

a one she yearns this balmy summer eve. With all the heart of her she

longs to be his only, his affianced bride for riches for poor, in sickness

in health, till death us two part, from this to this day forward.
And while Edy Boardman was with little Tommy behind the pushcar she was

just thinking would the day ever come when she could call herself his

little wife to be. Then they could talk about her till they went blue in

the face, Bertha Supple too, and Edy, little spitfire, because she would

be twentytwo in November. She would care for him with creature comforts

too for Gerty was womanly wise and knew that a mere man liked that

feeling of hominess. Her griddlecakes done to a goldenbrown hue and

queen Ann's pudding of delightful creaminess had won golden opinions from

all because she had a lucky hand also for lighting a fire, dredge in the

fine selfraising flour and always stir in the same direction, then cream

the milk and sugar and whisk well the white of eggs though she didn't like

the eating part when there were any people that made her shy and often she

wondered why you couldn't eat something poetical like violets or roses and

they would have a beautifully appointed drawingroom with pictures and

engravings and the photograph of grandpapa Giltrap's lovely dog

Garryowen that almost talked it was so human and chintz covers for the

chairs and that silver toastrack in Clery's summer jumble sales like they

have in rich houses. He would be tall with broad shoulders (she had always

admired tall men for a husband) with glistening white teeth under his

carefully trimmed sweeping moustache and they would go on the continent

for their honeymoon (three wonderful weeks!) and then, when they settled

down in a nice snug and cosy little homely house, every morning they

would both have brekky, simple but perfectly served, for their own two

selves and before he went out to business he would give his dear little

wifey a good hearty hug and gaze for a moment deep down into her eyes.
Edy Boardman asked Tommy Caffrey was he done and he said yes so

then she buttoned up his little knickerbockers for him and told him to run

off and play with Jacky and to be good now and not to fight. But Tommy

said he wanted the ball and Edy told him no that baby was playing with the

ball and if he took it there'd be wigs on the green but Tommy said it was

his ball and he wanted his ball and he pranced on the ground, if you

please. The temper of him! O, he was a man already was little Tommy

Caffrey since he was out of pinnies. Edy told him no, no and to be off now

with him and she told Cissy Caffrey not to give in to him.
--You're not my sister, naughty Tommy said. It's my ball.
But Cissy Caffrey told baby Boardman to look up, look up high at her

finger and she snatched the ball quickly and threw it along the sand and

Tommy after it in full career, having won the day.
--Anything for a quiet life, laughed Ciss.
And she tickled tiny tot's two cheeks to make him forget and played here's

the lord mayor, here's his two horses, here's his gingerbread carriage

and here he walks in, chinchopper, chinchopper, chinchopper chin. But Edy

got as cross as two sticks about him getting his own way like that from

everyone always petting him.
--I'd like to give him something, she said, so I would, where I won't say.
--On the beeoteetom, laughed Cissy merrily.
Gerty MacDowell bent down her head and crimsoned at the idea of Cissy

saying an unladylike thing like that out loud she'd be ashamed of her

life to say, flushing a deep rosy red, and Edy Boardman said she was sure

the gentleman opposite heard what she said. But not a pin cared Ciss.
--Let him! she said with a pert toss of her head and a piquant tilt of her

nose. Give it to him too on the same place as quick as I'd look at him.
Madcap Ciss with her golliwog curls. You had to laugh at her

sometimes. For instance when she asked you would you have some more

Chinese tea and jaspberry ram and when she drew the jugs too and the men's

faces on her nails with red ink make you split your sides or when she

wanted to go where you know she said she wanted to run and pay a visit to

the Miss White. That was just like Cissycums. O, and will you ever forget

her the evening she dressed up in her father's suit and hat and the burned

cork moustache and walked down Tritonville road, smoking a cigarette.

There was none to come up to her for fun. But she was sincerity itself,

one of the bravest and truest hearts heaven ever made, not one of your

twofaced things, too sweet to be wholesome.
And then there came out upon the air the sound of voices and the

pealing anthem of the organ. It was the men's temperance retreat conducted

by the missioner, the reverend John Hughes S. J., rosary, sermon and

benediction of the Most Blessed Sacrament. They were there gathered

together without distinction of social class (and a most edifying

spectacle it was to see) in that simple fane beside the waves,

after the storms of this weary world, kneeling before the feet of

the immaculate, reciting the litany of Our Lady of Loreto,

beseeching her to intercede for them, the old familiar words,

holy Mary, holy virgin of virgins. How sad to poor Gerty's ears!

Had her father only avoided the clutches of the demon drink, by

taking the pledge or those powders the drink habit cured in Pearson's

Weekly, she might now be rolling in her carriage, second to none. Over and

over had she told herself that as she mused by the dying embers in a brown

study without the lamp because she hated two lights or oftentimes gazing

out of the window dreamily by the hour at the rain falling on the rusty

bucket, thinking. But that vile decoction which has ruined so many hearths

and homes had cist its shadow over her childhood days. Nay, she had even

witnessed in the home circle deeds of violence caused by intemperance and

had seen her own father, a prey to the fumes of intoxication, forget

himself completely for if there was one thing of all things that Gerty

knew it was that the man who lifts his hand to a woman save in the way of

kindness, deserves to be branded as the lowest of the low.
And still the voices sang in supplication to the Virgin most powerful,

Virgin most merciful. And Gerty, rapt in thought, scarce saw or heard her

companions or the twins at their boyish gambols or the gentleman off

Sandymount green that Cissy Caffrey called the man that was so like

himself passing along the strand taking a short walk. You never saw him

any way screwed but still and for all that she would not like him for a

father because he was too old or something or on account of his face (it

was a palpable case of Doctor Fell) or his carbuncly nose with the pimples

on it and his sandy moustache a bit white under his nose. Poor father!

With all his faults she loved him still when he sang TELL ME, MARY, HOW TO

WOO THEE or MY LOVE AND COTTAGE NEAR ROCHELLE and they had stewed cockles

and lettuce with Lazenby's salad dressing for supper and when he sang THE

MOON HATH RAISED with Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was buried, God

have mercy on him, from a stroke. Her mother's birthday that was and

Charley was home on his holidays and Tom and Mr Dignam and Mrs and

Patsy and Freddy Dignam and they were to have had a group taken.

No-one would have thought the end was so near. Now he was laid to rest.

And her mother said to him to let that be a warning to him for the rest of

his days and he couldn't even go to the funeral on account of the gout and

she had to go into town to bring him the letters and samples from his

office about Catesby's cork lino, artistic, standard designs, fit for a

palace, gives tiptop wear and always bright and cheery in the home.
A sterling good daughter was Gerty just like a second mother in the house,

a ministering angel too with a little heart worth its weight in gold.

And when her mother had those raging splitting headaches who was it

rubbed the menthol cone on her forehead but Gerty though she didn't like

her mother's taking pinches of snuff and that was the only single thing

they ever had words about, taking snuff. Everyone thought the world of her

for her gentle ways. It was Gerty who turned off the gas at the main every

night and it was Gerty who tacked up on the wall of that place where she

never forgot every fortnight the chlorate of lime Mr Tunney the grocer's

christmas almanac, the picture of halcyon days where a young gentleman in

the costume they used to wear then with a threecornered hat was offering a

bunch of flowers to his ladylove with oldtime chivalry through her lattice

window. You could see there was a story behind it. The colours were done

something lovely. She was in a soft clinging white in a studied attitude

and the gentleman was in chocolate and he looked a thorough aristocrat.

She often looked at them dreamily when she went there for a certain

purpose and felt her own arms that were white and soft just like hers with

the sleeves back and thought about those times because she had found out

in Walker's pronouncing dictionary that belonged to grandpapa Giltrap

about the halcyon days what they meant.
The twins were now playing in the most approved brotherly fashion till at

last Master Jacky who was really as bold as brass there was no getting

behind that deliberately kicked the ball as hard as ever he could down

towards the seaweedy rocks. Needless to say poor Tommy was not slow to

voice his dismay but luckily the gentleman in black who was sitting there

by himself came gallantly to the rescue and intercepted the ball. Our two

champions claimed their plaything with lusty cries and to avoid trouble

Cissy Caffrey called to the gentleman to throw it to her please. The

gentleman aimed the ball once or twice and then threw it up the strand

towards Cissy Caffrey but it rolled down the slope and stopped right under

Gerty's skirt near the little pool by the rock. The twins clamoured again

for it and Cissy told her to kick it away and let them fight for it so

Gerty drew back her foot but she wished their stupid ball hadn't come

rolling down to her and she gave a kick but she missed and Edy and Cissy

laughed.
--If you fail try again, Edy Boardman said.
Gerty smiled assent and bit her lip. A delicate pink crept into her

pretty cheek but she was determined to let them see so she just lifted her

skirt a little but just enough and took good aim and gave the ball a jolly

good kick and it went ever so far and the two twins after it down towards

the shingle. Pure jealousy of course it was nothing else to draw attention

on account of the gentleman opposite looking. She felt the warm flush, a

danger signal always with Gerty MacDowell, surging and flaming into her

cheeks. Till then they had only exchanged glances of the most casual but

now under the brim of her new hat she ventured a look at him and the face

that met her gaze there in the twilight, wan and strangely drawn, seemed

to her the saddest she had ever seen.
Through the open window of the church the fragrant incense was wafted and

with it the fragrant names of her who was conceived without stain of

original sin, spiritual vessel, pray for us, honourable vessel, pray for

us, vessel of singular devotion, pray for us, mystical rose. And careworn

hearts were there and toilers for their daily bread and many who had erred

and wandered, their eyes wet with contrition but for all that bright with

hope for the reverend father Father Hughes had told them what the great

saint Bernard said in his famous prayer of Mary, the most pious Virgin's

intercessory power that it was not recorded in any age that those who

implored her powerful protection were ever abandoned by her.
The twins were now playing again right merrily for the troubles of

childhood are but as fleeting summer showers. Cissy Caffrey played with

baby Boardman till he crowed with glee, clapping baby hands in air. Peep

she cried behind the hood of the pushcar and Edy asked where was Cissy

gone and then Cissy popped up her head and cried ah! and, my word,

didn't the little chap enjoy that! And then she told him to say papa.
--Say papa, baby. Say pa pa pa pa pa pa pa.
And baby did his level best to say it for he was very intelligent for

eleven months everyone said and big for his age and the picture of health,

a perfect little bunch of love, and he would certainly turn out to be

something great, they said.
--Haja ja ja haja.
Cissy wiped his little mouth with the dribbling bib and wanted him to sit

up properly and say pa pa pa but when she undid the strap she cried out,

holy saint Denis, that he was possing wet and to double the half blanket

the other way under him. Of course his infant majesty was most

obstreperous at such toilet formalities and he let everyone know it:
--Habaa baaaahabaaa baaaa.
And two great big lovely big tears coursing down his cheeks. It was all no

use soothering him with no, nono, baby, no and telling him about the

geegee and where was the puffpuff but Ciss, always readywitted, gave him

in his mouth the teat of the suckingbottle and the young heathen was

quickly appeased.


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