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

Style 16: In the style of Irish-born political philosopher Edmund Burke

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Style 16: In the style of Irish-born political philosopher Edmund Burke.
To revert to Mr Bloom who, after his first entry, had been conscious of

some impudent mocks which he however had borne with as being the fruits

of that age upon which it is commonly charged that it knows not pity. The

young sparks, it is true, were as full of extravagancies as overgrown

children: the words of their tumultuary discussions were difficultly

understood and not often nice: their testiness and outrageous MOTS were

such that his intellects resiled from: nor were they scrupulously

sensible of the proprieties though their fund of strong animal spirits

spoke in their behalf. But the word of Mr Costello was an unwelcome

language for him for he nauseated the wretch that seemed to him a

cropeared creature of a misshapen gibbosity, born out of wedlock and

thrust like a crookback toothed and feet first into the world, which the

dint of the surgeon's pliers in his skull lent indeed a colour to, so as

to put him in thought of that missing link of creation's chain

desiderated by the late ingenious Mr Darwin. It was now for more than the

middle span of our allotted years that he had passed through the thousand

vicissitudes of existence and, being of a wary ascendancy and self a man

of rare forecast, he had enjoined his heart to repress all motions of a

rising choler and, by intercepting them with the readiest precaution,

foster within his breast that plenitude of sufferance which base minds

jeer at, rash judgers scorn and all find tolerable and but tolerable. To

those who create themselves wits at the cost of feminine delicacy (a

habit of mind which he never did hold with) to them he would concede

neither to bear the name nor to herit the tradition of a proper breeding:

while for such that, having lost all forbearance, can lose no more, there

remained the sharp antidote of experience to cause their insolency to

beat a precipitate and inglorious retreat. Not but what he could feel

with mettlesome youth which, caring nought for the mows of dotards or the

gruntlings of the severe, is ever (as the chaste fancy of the Holy Writer

expresses it) for eating of the tree forbid it yet not so far forth as to

pretermit humanity upon any condition soever towards a gentlewoman when

she was about her lawful occasions. To conclude, while from the sister's

words he had reckoned upon a speedy delivery he was, however, it must be

owned, not a little alleviated by the intelligence that the issue so

auspicated after an ordeal of such duress now testified once more to the

mercy as well as to the bounty of the Supreme Being.
Style 17: After the style of Dublin-born Richard Brinsley Sheridan who after his career as a successful dramatist had a distinguished career as a witty member of Parliament.
Accordingly he broke his mind to his neighbour, saying that, to express

his notion of the thing, his opinion (who ought not perchance to express

one) was that one must have a cold constitution and a frigid genius not

to be rejoiced by this freshest news of the fruition of her confinement

since she had been in such pain through no fault of hers. The dressy

young blade said it was her husband's that put her in that expectation or

at least it ought to be unless she were another Ephesian matron. I must

acquaint you, said Mr Crotthers, clapping on the table so as to evoke a

resonant comment of emphasis, old Glory Allelujurum was round again

today, an elderly man with dundrearies, preferring through his nose a

request to have word of Wilhelmina, my life, as he calls her. I bade him

hold himself in readiness for that the event would burst anon. 'Slife,

I'll be round with you. I cannot but extol the virile potency of the old

bucko that could still knock another child out of her. All fell to

praising of it, each after his own fashion, though the same young blade

held with his former view that another than her conjugial had been the

man in the gap, a clerk in orders, a linkboy (virtuous) or an itinerant

vendor of articles needed in every household. Singular, communed the

guest with himself, the wonderfully unequal faculty of metempsychosis

possessed by them, that the puerperal dormitory and the dissecting

theatre should be the seminaries of such frivolity, that the mere

acquisition of academic titles should suffice to transform in a pinch of

time these votaries of levity into exemplary practitioners of an art

which most men anywise eminent have esteemed the noblest. But, he further

added, it is mayhap to relieve the pentup feelings that in common oppress

them for I have more than once observed that birds of a feather laugh

Style 18: In the manner of the 18th-century satirist Junius.
But with what fitness, let it be asked of the noble lord, his patron, has

this alien, whom the concession of a gracious prince has admitted to

civic rights, constituted himself the lord paramount of our internal

polity? Where is now that gratitude which loyalty should have counselled?

During the recent war whenever the enemy had a temporary advantage with

his granados did this traitor to his kind not seize that moment to

discharge his piece against the empire of which he is a tenant at will

while he trembled for the security of his four per cents? Has he

forgotten this as he forgets all benefits received? Or is it that from

being a deluder of others he has become at last his own dupe as he is, if

report belie him not, his own and his only enjoyer? Far be it from

candour to violate the bedchamber of a respectable lady, the daughter of

a gallant major, or to cast the most distant reflections upon her virtue

but if he challenges attention there (as it was indeed highly his

interest not to have done) then be it so. Unhappy woman, she has been too

long and too persistently denied her legitimate prerogative to listen to

his objurgations with any other feeling than the derision of the

desperate. He says this, a censor of morals, a very pelican in his piety,

who did not scruple, oblivious of the ties of nature, to attempt illicit

intercourse with a female domestic drawn from the lowest strata of

society! Nay, had the hussy's scouringbrush not been her tutelary angel,

it had gone with her as hard as with Hagar, the Egyptian! In the question

of the grazing lands his peevish asperity is notorious and in Mr Cuffe's

hearing brought upon him from an indignant rancher a scathing retort

couched in terms as straightforward as they were bucolic. It ill becomes

him to preach that gospel. Has he not nearer home a seedfield that lies

fallow for the want of the ploughshare? A habit reprehensible at puberty

is second nature and an opprobrium in middle life. If he must dispense

his balm of Gilead in nostrums and apothegms of dubious taste to restore

to health a generation of unfledged profligates let his practice consist

better with the doctrines that now engross him. His marital breast is the

repository of secrets which decorum is reluctant to adduce. The lewd

suggestions of some faded beauty may console him for a consort neglected

and debauched but this new exponent of morals and healer of ills is at

his best an exotic tree which, when rooted in its native orient, throve

and flourished and was abundant in balm but, transplanted to a clime more

temperate, its roots have lost their quondam vigour while the stuff that

comes away from it is stagnant, acid and inoperative.
Style 19: In the manner of Edward Gibbon.
The news was imparted with a circumspection recalling the ceremonial

usage of the Sublime Porte by the second female infirmarian to the junior

medical officer in residence, who in his turn announced to the delegation

that an heir had been born, When he had betaken himself to the women's

apartment to assist at the prescribed ceremony of the afterbirth in the

presence of the secretary of state for domestic affairs and the members

of the privy council, silent in unanimous exhaustion and approbation the

delegates, chafing under the length and solemnity of their vigil and

hoping that the joyful occurrence would palliate a licence which the

simultaneous absence of abigail and obstetrician rendered the easier,

broke out at once into a strife of tongues. In vain the voice of Mr

Canvasser Bloom was heard endeavouring to urge, to mollify, to refrain.

The moment was too propitious for the display of that discursiveness

which seemed the only bond of union among tempers so divergent. Every

phase of the situation was successively eviscerated: the prenatal

repugnance of uterine brothers, the Caesarean section, posthumity with

respect to the father and, that rarer form, with respect to the mother,

the fratricidal case known as the Childs Murder and rendered memorable by

the impassioned plea of Mr Advocate Bushe which secured the acquittal of

the wrongfully accused, the rights of primogeniture and king's bounty

touching twins and triplets, miscarriages and infanticides, simulated or

dissimulated, the acardiac FOETUS IN FOETU and aprosopia due to a

congestion, the agnathia of certain chinless Chinamen (cited by Mr

Candidate Mulligan) in consequence of defective reunion of the maxillary

knobs along the medial line so that (as he said) one ear could hear what

the other spoke, the benefits of anesthesia or twilight sleep, the

prolongation of labour pains in advanced gravidancy by reason of pressure

on the vein, the premature relentment of the amniotic fluid (as

exemplified in the actual case) with consequent peril of sepsis to the

matrix, artificial insemination by means of syringes, involution of the

womb consequent upon the menopause, the problem of the perpetration of

the species in the case of females impregnated by delinquent rape, that

distressing manner of delivery called by the Brandenburghers STURZGEBURT,

the recorded instances of multiseminal, twikindled and monstrous births

conceived during the catamenic period or of consanguineous parents--in a

word all the cases of human nativity which Aristotle has classified in

his masterpiece with chromolithographic illustrations. The gravest

problems of obstetrics and forensic medicine were examined with as much

animation as the most popular beliefs on the state of pregnancy such as

the forbidding to a gravid woman to step over a countrystile lest, by her

movement, the navelcord should strangle her creature and the injunction

upon her in the event of a yearning, ardently and ineffectually

entertained, to place her hand against that part of her person which long

usage has consecrated as the seat of castigation. The abnormalities of

harelip, breastmole, supernumerary digits, negro's inkle, strawberry mark

and portwine stain were alleged by one as a PRIMA FACIE and natural

hypothetical explanation of those swineheaded (the case of Madame Grissel

Steevens was not forgotten) or doghaired infants occasionally born. The

hypothesis of a plasmic memory, advanced by the Caledonian envoy and

worthy of the metaphysical traditions of the land he stood for, envisaged

in such cases an arrest of embryonic development at some stage antecedent

to the human. An outlandish delegate sustained against both these views,

with such heat as almost carried conviction, the theory of copulation

between women and the males of brutes, his authority being his own

avouchment in support of fables such as that of the Minotaur which the

genius of the elegant Latin poet has handed down to us in the pages of

his Metamorphoses. The impression made by his words was immediate but

shortlived. It was effaced as easily as it had been evoked by an

allocution from Mr Candidate Mulligan in that vein of pleasantry which

none better than he knew how to affect, postulating as the supremest

object of desire a nice clean old man. Contemporaneously, a heated

argument having arisen between Mr Delegate Madden and Mr Candidate Lynch

regarding the juridical and theological dilemma created in the event of

one Siamese twin predeceasing the other, the difficulty by mutual consent

was referred to Mr Canvasser Bloom for instant submittal to Mr Coadjutor

Deacon Dedalus. Hitherto silent, whether the better to show by

preternatural gravity that curious dignity of the garb with which he was

invested or in obedience to an inward voice, he delivered briefly and, as

some thought, perfunctorily the ecclesiastical ordinance forbidding man

to put asunder what God has joined.
Style 20: In the style of Horace Walpole’s Gothic novel The Castle of Otranto in which Haines plays the part of Manfred, the bloodstained usurper. The passage also echoes The House by the Churchyard by the Irish writer Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, as well as the dialogue of Synge’s plays.
But Malachias' tale began to freeze them with horror. He conjured up the

scene before them. The secret panel beside the chimney slid back and in

the recess appeared ... Haines! Which of us did not feel his flesh creep!

He had a portfolio full of Celtic literature in one hand, in the other a

phial marked POISON. Surprise, horror, loathing were depicted on all

faces while he eyed them with a ghostly grin. I anticipated some such

reception, he began with an eldritch laugh, for which, it seems, history

is to blame. Yes, it is true. I am the murderer of Samuel Childs. And how

I am punished! The inferno has no terrors for me. This is the appearance

is on me. Tare and ages, what way would I be resting at all, he muttered

thickly, and I tramping Dublin this while back with my share of songs and

himself after me the like of a soulth or a bullawurrus? My hell, and

Ireland's, is in this life. It is what I tried to obliterate my crime.

Distractions, rookshooting, the Erse language (he recited some), laudanum

(he raised the phial to his lips), camping out. In vain! His spectre

stalks me. Dope is my only hope ... Ah! Destruction! The black panther!

With a cry he suddenly vanished and the panel slid back. An instant later

his head appeared in the door opposite and said: Meet me at Westland Row

station at ten past eleven. He was gone. Tears gushed from the eyes of

the dissipated host. The seer raised his hand to heaven, murmuring: The

vendetta of Mananaun! The sage repeated: LEX TALIONIS. The sentimentalist

is he who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a

thing done. Malachias, overcome by emotion, ceased. The mystery was

unveiled. Haines was the third brother. His real name was Childs. The

black panther was himself the ghost of his own father. He drank drugs to

obliterate. For this relief much thanks. The lonely house by the

graveyard is uninhabited. No soul will live there. The spider pitches her

web in the solitude. The nocturnal rat peers from his hole. A curse is on

it. It is haunted. Murderer's ground.
Style 21: After the style of gentle pathos and nostalgia of English essayist Charles Lamb. The passage notes Bloom’s residence when a boy at 52 Clanbrassil Street Upper and his attendance of Erasmus Smith High School at 40 Harcourt St.
What is the age of the soul of man? As she hath the virtue of the

chameleon to change her hue at every new approach, to be gay with the

merry and mournful with the downcast, so too is her age changeable as her

mood. No longer is Leopold, as he sits there, ruminating, chewing the cud

of reminiscence, that staid agent of publicity and holder of a modest

substance in the funds. A score of years are blown away. He is young

Leopold. There, as in a retrospective arrangement, a mirror within a

mirror (hey, presto!), he beholdeth himself. That young figure of then is

seen, precociously manly, walking on a nipping morning from the old house

in Clanbrassil street to the high school, his booksatchel on him

bandolierwise, and in it a goodly hunk of wheaten loaf, a mother's

thought. Or it is the same figure, a year or so gone over, in his first

hard hat (ah, that was a day!), already on the road, a fullfledged

traveller for the family firm, equipped with an orderbook, a scented

handkerchief (not for show only), his case of bright trinketware (alas! a

thing now of the past!) and a quiverful of compliant smiles for this or

that halfwon housewife reckoning it out upon her fingertips or for a

budding virgin, shyly acknowledging (but the heart? tell me!) his studied

baisemoins. The scent, the smile, but, more than these, the dark eyes and

oleaginous address, brought home at duskfall many a commission to the

head of the firm, seated with Jacob's pipe after like labours in the

paternal ingle (a meal of noodles, you may be sure, is aheating), reading

through round horned spectacles some paper from the Europe of a month

before. But hey, presto, the mirror is breathed on and the young

knighterrant recedes, shrivels, dwindles to a tiny speck within the mist.

Now he is himself paternal and these about him might be his sons. Who can

say? The wise father knows his own child. He thinks of a drizzling night

in Hatch street, hard by the bonded stores there, the first. Together

(she is a poor waif, a child of shame, yours and mine and of all for a

bare shilling and her luckpenny), together they hear the heavy tread of

the watch as two raincaped shadows pass the new royal university. Bridie!

Bridie Kelly! He will never forget the name, ever remember the night:

first night, the bridenight. They are entwined in nethermost darkness,

the willer with the willed, and in an instant (FIAT!) light shall flood

the world. Did heart leap to heart? Nay, fair reader. In a breath 'twas

done but--hold! Back! It must not be! In terror the poor girl flees away

through the murk. She is the bride of darkness, a daughter of night. She

dare not bear the sunnygolden babe of day. No, Leopold. Name and memory

solace thee not. That youthful illusion of thy strength was taken from

thee--and in vain. No son of thy loins is by thee. There is none now to

be for Leopold, what Leopold was for Rudolph.
Style 22: In the style of English romantic Thomas De Quincey, particularly The English Mail Coach (1849).
The voices blend and fuse in clouded silence: silence that is the

infinite of space: and swiftly, silently the soul is wafted over regions

of cycles of generations that have lived. A region where grey twilight

ever descends, never falls on wide sagegreen pasturefields, shedding her

dusk, scattering a perennial dew of stars. She follows her mother with

ungainly steps, a mare leading her fillyfoal. Twilight phantoms are they,

yet moulded in prophetic grace of structure, slim shapely haunches, a

supple tendonous neck, the meek apprehensive skull. They fade, sad

phantoms: all is gone. Agendath is a waste land, a home of screechowls

and the sandblind upupa. Netaim, the golden, is no more. And on the

highway of the clouds they come, muttering thunder of rebellion, the

ghosts of beasts. Huuh! Hark! Huuh! Parallax stalks behind and goads

them, the lancinating lightnings of whose brow are scorpions. Elk and

yak, the bulls of Bashan and of Babylon, mammoth and mastodon, they come

trooping to the sunken sea, LACUS MORTIS. Ominous revengeful zodiacal

host! They moan, passing upon the clouds, horned and capricorned, the

trumpeted with the tusked, the lionmaned, the giantantlered, snouter and

crawler, rodent, ruminant and pachyderm, all their moving moaning

multitude, murderers of the sun.
Onward to the dead sea they tramp to drink, unslaked and with horrible

gulpings, the salt somnolent inexhaustible flood. And the equine portent

grows again, magnified in the deserted heavens, nay to heaven's own

magnitude, till it looms, vast, over the house of Virgo. And lo, wonder

of metempsychosis, it is she, the everlasting bride, harbinger of the

daystar, the bride, ever virgin. It is she, Martha, thou lost one,

Millicent, the young, the dear, the radiant. How serene does she now

arise, a queen among the Pleiades, in the penultimate antelucan hour,

shod in sandals of bright gold, coifed with a veil of what do you call it

gossamer. It floats, it flows about her starborn flesh and loose it

streams, emerald, sapphire, mauve and heliotrope, sustained on currents

of the cold interstellar wind, winding, coiling, simply swirling,

writhing in the skies a mysterious writing till, after a myriad

metamorphoses of symbol, it blazes, Alpha, a ruby and triangled sign upon

the forehead of Taurus.

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